A Time and a Place...

JC and Donna Lee...I Cannot Post Beyond This Page...Not Ever...

2009-09-14T16:42:00.000-07:00

I can't post on this place anymore...it would be a sin for me...I will leave this as it is to honor my sweet Donna Lee...

My sweet little girl...my life...my Donna Lee...Today you have been in Heaven for two years...it seems like a thousand years...I miss you every day and love you forever...you are the best part of my life,-even now you are gone...I long for the day we will be back together in body as we are now in spirit...I love you, dear...and miss you so much...Your Teddy Bear always...JC...Jim...James...

My sweet Donna Lee, you are 74 years old today, November 13...I will love you forever...Your Teddy bear,-JC...

I'll go on now with my life but this blog will stay like it is...my sweet wife went to Heaven on September the fourteenth, of 2009, at 04:30 in the afternoon...now,on September the thirtieth of 2010, I dedicate this blog to her sweet memory. I love you, my wife, and I keep your memory in my heart forever...Now I leave you here...where we last met...I'm yours always...your teddy bear...James...

It has been a year now since you went away...it seems like an eternity...I thought to write in this blog again and go on with things...but now that I am here, that would be so hard to do...it would be like saying it is finally over...you are gone forever and will never return to me...I just can't do it...I'll just say,-I love you so much and miss you terribly, every day,-every second of my life...nothing can ever be the same...nothing will ever be 'all right'...

I want to tell you,-I have a friend now,-you know her..Catarina Fonseca, Tina of Tinorbison...she has been so loving and caring...she mentions you often,-to say how wonderful you are...how perfect you and I are together...she has given me a reason for some kind of existence,-a reason to be alive...

Even so, to be with you again is my dream...I only await the day when I can see you...touch your sweet face again...I'll wait to write more in this blog...Maybe God will send me a sign when it is time...but not now...not today...
My sweet wife, I love you always and forever...I am your teddy bear...your JC...

"Happy Birthday, my sweet rose! Today you are as old as me. Today I have loved you for seventy three years and will always love you! Forever, your teddybear..." November 13...

Donna Lee went to Heaven at 4:30 pm today. I cannot imagine what it will be like without her here with me. I know I'll see her again but it's sure going to be lonesome waiting for that time to come.

Thank all of you friends for your love and support. Donna Lee didn't know most of you but, since I love you, I know she loved you, too. That's the way we were; and still are and will always be.

"Hi, Sweetie! I can see you looking down at me. I just want to tell you one more time how much I love you.I love you more than everything else in the world all put together. And I know you love me. We'll always be together, my Sweetie, my Honey; My Donna Lee."

I feel like I should add this poem. I didn't know when I wrote it it would be for my honey. It is very sad.

It's Really Hard To Say a Last Goodbye...

It's really hard to say a last goodbye,-
To know you'll never see someone again,-
To see the look of loss and know that this
Will be the last time that you'll see your friend.
You gently come to her and take her hand,-
You don't know what it is you're gonna say,-
You'd rather not say anything at all;
You never thought you two would part this way.

You feel a little lump start in your throat
And get a little quiver in your chin.
It's hard for you to look right in her eyes
And know you'll never look in them again.
Her soft brown eyes are asking you to speak
But that is not an easy thing to do.
What can you say that will make any sense
When you now know your friend is leaving you.

You've been together all these happy years
And never thought this love could ever end;
You never thought the Angels would appear
And with your love to Heaven would ascend.
But now her loving eyes begin to close;
You whisper that you love her and you cry.
You kiss her gently, then she goes away;
It's really hard to say a last goodbye.

This is a Roy Orbison song my sweetie and I just found on tinorbisons web site (from Portugal) and began listening to. I just have to post it. It is so profound.

Later...

Donna Update 9/9...Update 9/10...Update 9/11...9/12...9/13...

2009-09-09T19:08:00.000-07:00

Another pretty good day. I learned a lot today, about caring for someone. Donna was looking sort of tired when I got there and I asked the nurse how long it had been since Donnas mouth was cleaned. She said about two hours and handed me a bottle of cleanser, a tube of lotion and some swabs and said told me I could do it.
I had done it a couple of times before but it was still scary for me; I was afraid of hurting her. But it turned out to be pretty easy. I just had to be careful to not scrub too hard.
Then I exercised her arms and feet and rubbed lotion on them and played some music for her. I recorded about an hour of Jazz (Take the A Train, etc) on a cd last night because Donna loves Jazz. She seemed to like it. She wasn't very responsive today but her numbers were all good.
Then came the really scary part. The nurse told me that she had to sit Donna up in a big padded chair. I left and she told me I should help because I might have to be doing things like this when Donna comes home. After a few minutes, I went back and helped the nurse and another big male nurse.
They were supposed to leave her in that sitting position for as long as she could stand it,maybe a half an hour. As it turned out, she sat there for over an hour and seemed to feel better after we put her back in the bed.
She didn't get dialysis today but will tomorrow. I'm going to start helping turn her and all the rest. I was always afraid I would hurt her but I know, as long as I am careful, it'll be all right.
I need to find a good hospital type bed for her for when she comes home. It sure is long here at night.
Thank all of you folks for your comments of encouragement and your prayers. We love you for them.
Always your friends, Jim and Donna Lee...

Thanks are in order to all of you who prayed for a good result from the MRI brain scan! I got the final results today and there is NO EVIDENCE OF A STROKE! 'Yay!'
Doctor Brussett came in and I told him about the results (I think he already knew) and he said, "See, like I told you,-just stick to your guns."
What a relief this is. Now we just keep on doing what we are doing and, one of these days, I'll be taking my Honey home!

She is off of all her meds except for an antibiotic for her bed rash and a saline drip. She may be transferred to a re-hab hospital in a week or so. That is a very good sign.

She was getting ready to have a dialysis when I left. Thank all of you for your love and support. We love you and I know God loves you.
Your friends, Jim and Donna Lee.

<Donna was some relaxed this morning. Her numbers were good and she didn't need dialysis yesterday. I played a new CD for her and I think she enjoyed it.

I sat in on the 'rounds' and the doctor showed the MRI of Donnas' brain. It didn't show anything bad that anyone could tell. One fellow pointed at a small triangular area and said that could be a compromising spot but he would wait for the main examiner to say.
Doctor Bartolo showed the scan to me up close and said he didn't see anything wrong at all.
Dr Hari said he didn't see anything bad that would cause a stroke.
A technician came in later and did an EEG (electroencephalograph). We should get the results of everything tomorrow. I'll let you all know.
Keep praying for her. We love you. Jim and Donna Lee.

Donna looked about the same today but her numbers were a bit better. They were good enough so she didn't need a dialysis today. That's a good sign.
A neurologist examined her last night and said she may have had a stroke. The MRI will show it if that is what happened.

Doctor Hari came in and we talked. I suggested to him that Donna might have suffered a slipped disc in her neck vertebrae.
He said he was glad I kept trying to come up with something but he doubted that was what happened.
He thinks it is as the result of the extreme trauma and pain that the brain shuts down the body. There is a name for it but it was so long I don't remember it. He said he doubts the MRI will show a stroke. I sure hope he is right.
He said, if what he suggested is right, it will just take time for Donnas' brain to allow her body to start up again. He says to just keep doing what we're doing and be patient. I thanked him and shook his hand for that opinion.
I played music for her part of the day and shut it off when she drifted off to sleep.
It sure is quiet in this house. I never realized how many sounds my Honey made.
Thank all of you,-we love you. Jim and Donna Lee...

I guess it's time to start a new post.

Donna looked a little bit more relaxed today. I think she is getting more pain medication. The MRI still wasn't done due to accident victims coming in. Her MRI isn't something that is crucial. She was getting a dialysis when I left.
There is a new male nurse and I don't think he fully knows the routine with Donnas care. I had to remind him today to turn her and clean her mouth. I hope we don't have words but I can't keep from saying something when something needs to be done.
Her numbers are still good. I took a new cd and played it for her and I exercised her some.
She seems to get a little better each day but it is such a small bit, you'd have to be there every day to see the improvement.
Some guy asked me if I ever went home and I told him that I am at home,-anywhere my Honey is is home.
Please keep praying for her. I know she will make it but it is sure getting to be a long time for her. Thank you all so much for your support. We love you. Always your friends, Jim and Donna Lee...

Donna Lee...Update 9/3...Update 9/4...Update 9/5...Update 9/7...Update 9/8...

2009-09-01T19:05:00.000-07:00

Donna looked a little bit better today when I got there. She looked more relaxed (you have to see her every day to tell)than she did yesterday. I waited around for a while before I spoke to her; until she opened her eyes. She knew me right away. And the nurse, Roger, now says she knew him, too, and understood things. That's a very good sign,-him admitting that.
She has the brain scan MRI scheduled to be done this evening. The nurse had a chance to get her dialysis pretty early so he decided to do that first. I won't know anything on the MRI until tomorrow morning. Keep your fingers crossed, that there'l be nothing bad in the scan results.
Roger told me I could bring a cd player in to play her cds. I went right out and got one at Best Buy and a set of speakers. The player is fine but the speakers don't do much so I'll use Donnas speakers from her computer.
I played a couple of songs and she looked like she enjoyed them but then she gat a little sad so I turned it off. I'll try tomorrow again and see if she will enjoy them, her favorite songs, without getting sad. I hope so.
The Infectious Disease doctor came by and checked her and told her, "Donna, you're getting better all the time." That's a really good sign. He told me her signs are good and stable and her white count is at 13, which is good for her condition.I have decided to ask the doctors to not say negative things within Donnas hearing range anymore. I know she understands things and I don't want her to get discouraged.

I love all of you folks, anonymous included, for being so caring and encouraging. It really means a lot to us. Always your friends, Jim and Donna...

Donna Lees numbers are about the same today as they were yesterday. I know she is aware of things sometimes. When I got there, I walked over to the other side of the bed, the way she was facing. I leaned down and told her hello and put my hand on her forehead and her eyes immediately locked on me. Her chin came up a couple of times like she wanted to say something. I told her I loved her and asked her if she was all right, I asked if she was in pain and tears started; she was crying.
I told Roger, the male nurse about it and told him she was in pain and Roger called Doctor Sam and was allowed to give her a little bit of a pain medication and, after a few minutes, she felt better. The problem was, then she didn't feel up to talking anymore so I left her alone for a while.

Of course, the doctors and the nurse take all of this with a grain of salt. However, Roger did tell Doctor Brussett that Donnas eyes had 'tracked'.

Donna didn't get the MRI today because of people being off for the holiday and a couple of accident victims came in and kept the technicians busy. They'll do it tomorrow.

There is some good news. They thought she might be bleeding from an ulcer so a doctor inserted a 'gastroscopy', (?)-a tube with a camera, into her stomach to check it out. He just called me here at home ten minutes ago
to say her stomach is clear! 'Yay!'What a great thing for him to do, to call me tonight!

That's about it for today. Thank you all so much for your love and support; for your caring and prayers. Always your friends, Jim and Donna Lee...

Donna looks about the same today except her breathing is a bit faster and, at times her heartbeat was a bit erratic.
Dr Lupersio went ahead and ordered an mri of her brain. I am anxious to see what it shows.

I will make this short as there isn't much to tell. Thank all of you folks for your love and encouragement. It really means a lot. I think about it sometimes when I am sitting in Donnas room. We love you for your prayers and thoughts.
Your friends, Jim and Donna...

Donna looked about the same today. Her numbers are good and I know she looks at me once in a while; her right eye follows my head movement slightly and I get a blink sometimes and this is all a good sign. I try to get her to squeeze my hand but she hasn't yet.
Her brain scan from yesterday showed no signs of a stroke. Doctor Lupersio said that if she doesn't awaken in a week he might get an mri of her brain. He said we'd have to think of something else. I told him that if she doesn't awaken in a week, we'd give her another week and another and as many as it takes for her to get well. I hope he felt the ice in my voice at what I perceived he meant.
Doctor Brussett came in later. He went to JC and Donna Lee and said he liked Green Eyes and Eighteen Wheels. I think he understands Donna a bit better now. He sure encourages me.
They were starting a dialysis when I left to come back to Red Bluff.

Thank all of you for your good wishes and encouragement. We love you for it. Jim and Donna...

Once again, Donna was a bit better today. She looked the same but the infections doctor said her white blood cell count is down to 15. He said 10 or below is ideal and reminded me that, a short while ago, her count was up to thirty.
I exercised her arms and feet and some to her knees several times today and rubbed them all with lotion.
I was singing a song to her and I moved my head to the side just a little bit and her eyes followed my face. I told the nurse but he said he had never seen her move her eyes. It happened again later and she is blinking some, too. I keep telling her to squeeze my hand but she hasn't yet.
Dr Brussett came in and I told him about her white blood cell count being at 15 and that it had been up to 30. He said that, at one time, it was up to 50. He told me again that Donna is getting a little bit better all the time. I told him that Donnas eyes followed me when I was singing to her and I moved my face. He said she probably could hear me.
He said he had patients who were ten times sicker than Donna and got well. He said one lady, after nine months, came by his office with her husband and they were living their lives just as they had before she got sick. I thank God every time he comes around. He always puts everything in perspective.
Thank all of you. We love all of you for your love and encouragement and support. Your friends, Jim and Donna...

Donna was better today. When I got there, a new male nurse met me and began to tell me of Donna's condition. He made it sound very bleary so I told him not to speak of Donna in terms of not getting better.
In a while, Doctor Brussett came in and we spoke. He was very encouraging. He said Donna is slowly getting better and warned me that some people may ask me when I intended to 'throw in the towel' and I told him that I would never give up on Donna. He said that is the perfect attitude. He said she is slowly getting better, even with a slight backstep once in a while and to keep up the positive thoughts. He said that even if it took six months or more in ICU, there is a good chance of full recovery and to never think otherwise.

Then the doctor specializing in infections came in and told me that Donnas 'white count' is down and that is a very good sign. I thanked him and Doctor Brussett for being there for us and for being so hopeful about Donna's recovery.
The dialysis tech lady came in then and started Donna on dialysis. Her numbers (bp-heart rate-oxygen, etc) stayed good and that is a good sign.
Then I got a bad stomach ache and had to leave before the dialysis was finished. I sure hope my stomach gets better by in the morning and is just a little 'half a day' bug.

Thank all of you good friends and relatives for your prayers and encouragement. Thank you relatives who e-mail us and you friends who comment here. We love you all for it. Jim and Donna...

Donna is about the same today as she was yesterday. That, in itself, is good news. She had dialysis this afternoon but they weren't able to get much fluid from her system and her heart was a bit erratic. The nurse says she is no worse. Thank the Lord for that. Thank all of you friends for caring. We love you. Jim and Donna...

I decided to start a new month. You can still read the earlier updates.

Donna was better today. She seemed relaxed, at least more than some other times. When I got there, I was told she would get another cat scan in a while; an abdomen, a lung and a brain scan. We'll probably have the results tomorrow.

I was exercising her arms and she opened her eyes! 'Yay!' She couldn't see me because she was in a semi-sleep state, between sleep and awake. I called the male nurse, Roger, (a really good guy) over and he said that was a very good sign. A nurse trainee started cleaning her mouth and got the swab a bit too low and Donna had a 'gag reflex', which is, also, a very good sign. Then she bit down on the swab. I felt like kissing her;-so I did!

She still hasn't been fully awake yet but she's getting closer. She didn't require a dialysis today and that was a good sign.

Please keep praying for Donna. She still has a long way to go. We love you all for your love and support. Your friends, Jim and Donna...

Donna Lee Update Saturday 8/29...Update 8/30...Update 8/31...

2009-08-20T05:17:00.000-07:00

Donna Lee had a much better day today. I had a long talk with the main supervisor about yesterdays nurse and her attitude. He assured me he would talk to her and the rest of the staff. There was a male nurse today that handled both the nursing and the respiratory duties. His name is Roger and he is very knowledgeable and personable.
He called me at home early this morning and told me that the doctor would be installing Donnas feeding tube into her stomach from the side of her abdomen and he wanted to let me know that it would be a while before I could see her. I used that time here at home, washing and drying ( and ironing) a load of clothes.
Donna had a much better day today. She is still under sedation and doesn't know what is happening. She had dialysis again today and, as the result of losing a lot of fluid, her heart went into a rapid heartbeat known as 'tachycardia.' The doctor said the rapid heartbeat was the way the heart replaces fluids that the body needs which were lost to the dialysis. He said they will watch it closely and within a few hours, her heart rate should return to normal. If it doesn't as fast as they think it should, they can add fluids.
Thank you all so much for your encouragement and support. We love you. Jim and Donna...

Donna had a bad day today. She started out pretty good then things began to worsen. I was watching the screen and saw her blood pressure jump from 170 to 195 and told the nurse. She came over and turned the sound off and said Donna would be all right; those things happen. I assured her that those things don't just 'happen' on their own, without a reason. She didn't agree so I called the on-call doctor and he talked to her. She inserted some meds into donnas tube and we waited for the next BP check; it came in at 177/84, not too good but better. Then I saw Donnas face begin to turn red and she started to perspire and her breathing began to be labored. The nurse and the respritory tech weren't interested. Then her palms turned bright red. I called the nurses attention to it and she wasn't worried; it seemed no one wanted to worry. So I had the head nurse call Dr Hari and he came in and he looked worried. I reminded him that this is just what happened two weeks ago when Donna almost died. He assurred me he would keep a close watch on things.
That's about it for now. I'll check back with the hospital in a couple of hours, after the dialysis has run. Please keep praying for Donna. Jim

It's Saturday, August 29th and Donna Lee is about the same as she was yesterday. That's what the rounds doctor said. I exercised her some this morning and I think it relaxed her a bit. After I exercise her feet, I put them flat against a pillow or I put each foot into a foam rubber block to keep it flat. That will keep her from getting what is called 'drop-foot'.
She had dialysis this afternoon and the lady said she thinks Donnas color is better than it was day before yesterday.
Doctor Brusett said Donna may be in ICU for another month. He says she may be home in three or four months, after hospital and physical therapy.
I may buy an adjustable bed for when she gets home. They're pretty expensive but Costco has one on sale I can order and pay for with my credit card. And, if she doesn't need it within 90 days, I can return it. I have to decide before the 1st of September when the sale is off.
I really thank all of you, our friends and family, for your love and support. A dear friend of ours named Loretta went to a jam session today and filled everybody in on Donnas condition. She helps by keeping our jam session friends informed. It saves me having to make a lot of calls.
Please keep your love and prayers coming. We love you all. James and Donna.

Donna is still running a bit of a fever. The rounds doctor said it is caused by an infection of some sort. She gets an antibiotic for the fever but the antibiotics gives her diarrhea. What a quandary that is but the doctor says he can handle it. She had the trach tube put into her neck this afternoon and she seems to be breathing and resting a bit easier. Her fever is down to just under a 100 degrees. Doctor Brussett said she would probably be in icu for another month. She is pretty sick. Then he said she wouldn't remember much about this WHEN SHE GETS HOME. I almost kissed him for saying 'WHEN SHE GETS HOME'!
I didn't exercise her much today and none this evening after the trach tube was installed. I'll start again tomorrow.
That's about all for today. I really love all of you people for caring for my Honey and praying for her and being there for her. Your friends, Jim and Donna...

Donna seems to be just a bit better today. She still has a bit of a fever, about 37.9 Celsius which is 100 degrees Fahrenheit, not too bad. I started exercising her knees now, too, along with her arms, legs and feet. I don't know if it makes her feel any better now but it'll be good for her when she wakes up. The nurses here are really good people. I was told to press her feet against a pillow to flatten them out, so they won't stiffen at a down sloping angle and the nurse told me not to worry about the pillow. Then she went out and came back with two foam rubber deals that Donnas' feet fit into so they are kept in the right position. I just take them off her feet to exercise them then put them back on. Thank you all for your prayers, good wishes and hugs. We love you. Jim and Donna.

Donna had a bit of a bad night last night. Her white blood count was up because of an infection. They're not sure where the infection is. The kidney doctor put in a new tube and replaced all of Donnas old tubes, thinking that might help. I didn't exercise her today because she was tired. Her other signs are good; BP, ECG, EKG and the like. Her breathing was good with the respirator set at 40%. I came home a bit earlier than usual to tend to a few things here. Doctor Brussett said he will talk to me tomorrow or Friday about putting the trach tube to make it easier for her to breathe and maybe she will awaken then. Thank you all for your prayers and support. Jim and Donna.

Donna looks better than she did yesterday. The respirator is turned down to 40% which is a very good sign. (by the way, I think the trach tube will be for her breathing if and when it is installed)The respirator tech listened to her heart and lungs and said her lungs sounded better than they ever had; there was no rattle of any kind. The doctor who was head of the 'rounds' said she is definitely improving. Thank you all for your prayers and support. We love you all for it. Jim and Donna

I exercised Donna today and she was sent for another cat scan; I don't know what about. She is doing better.I sat in on the 'rounds' this morning and the head man showed me Donnas latest X-ray. He pointed out that her lungs look about 60% better than they did just yesterday. He says they look like they are starting to balloon out and that's a very good sign.
The nurse said they might take the tube out of her throat in a few days and install a trach tube to feed her. She may be able to awaken then. I sure hope so.
Thank you all for your prayers. We love you so much. James

I went to the hospital early this morning and Donna

I went to the hospital early this morning and Donna was doing much better. I exercised her arms and feet and that seemed to quiet her down some more. She had a dialysis during the day.

When I left, her breathing was very regular and smooth. I am feeling much better about her now.

I know all of you understand she can't have visitors except for immediate family. Just before she went in for the surgery, she told me to not let anyone see her until she got her own room. She said, without her teeth, she looked like a little old grannie. I reminded her that she is a little old granny and she said, maybe so but I just don't want to look like one.'chuckle'

I love all of you who have prayed for her. Having friends is a wonderful thing and Donna loves all of you for being here!

Later...

It's 4 pm right now. Donna had her cat scan. I don't know what the result was but it must have been all right or I'm sure they would have said something. She had e very rough day, being moved and all. And they took the catheter out of her heart and put in somewhere else. They said it would be more comfortable. Please keep your thoughts going to her. I'm sure she'll get well but a few good thoughts and a prayer or two won't hurt anyhow and we'll love you for them. Jim

I'm headed to the hospital right now. Donna was on the dialysis machine yesterday pm and was otherwise unchanged. They want to get a cat scan of her stomach today. Moving her will be very traumatic for her. Please send your good thoughts to her. She'll love you for it. Jim

Update: Donna is doing some better this morning. They took the dialysis machine off and her pulse, blood pressure and respiration are pretty good. Her white blood cell count is somewhat elevated but nothing that can't be handled. I heard the doctor tell the nurse that Donna is a bit better than yesterday. Thanks to everybody for your prayers! Jim...

To our friends:
Donna Lee found out she had lung cancer and, after many scans and tests, we decided she would have an operation to remove it. The Doctor said, given her history, the operation should be relatively safe. Her heart was good and that was the most important part.
The top lobe of her right lung had a large mass on it and the Doctor removed the entire lobe. The operation was a complete success and the next morning, she was awake and alert and almost ready to go home. (she said and I agreed)
Then (she was already in the Intensive Care Unit as a precaution) she was administered medication and she had a very bad reaction to it and almost died. Her heart had to be shocked to regain a good sinus rhythm and it worked; it was 87 bpm and steady and we felt better about things.
But her body reacted very badly to being moved or bothered in any way. She is on a respirator for her breathing and, at one time, the pressure was lowered to fifty percent (that's good) and she was hooked up to a dialysis machine to clean and warm her blood. After a while it was disconnected but, after night before lasts' bad episode, it was reattached as a precaution. This was after the doctor had to insert a catheter directly into her heart to help the monitoring.
Yesterday her color was better and yesterday an electrocardiograph showed that there was NO suspected hole in her heart and her heart was in overall pretty good condition. That is a very good sign.
Her doctor said he suspected she had a bad allergic reaction to one of her medications. He said that the longer she can be kept in her present guarded condition, the better chance she has for survival.

I know she will pull through but a small prayer or two from some of our friends surely wouldn't hurt anything.
I'll try to keep you posted.

Later...

Can You Believe This...

2009-08-05T15:56:00.000-07:00

This is so cute I just had to post it! Enjoy!!

Later...

http://www.jcadla.net/

Catcerto

2009-07-29T05:33:00.001-07:00

This is so clever, I think it is worth sharing. This cat looks just like Skeeter, a feline member of our family in the 90s who thought she was a little girl. (As did I) Enjoy.

Later...

I Cannot See My Old Friends...

2009-06-30T15:52:00.000-07:00

Someone wanted me to write a poem that is taken from

some poem that is one I really like so I wrote this one.

It was inspired by, "I Cannot Sing the Old Songs,"
by Charlotte Arlington Barnard.

I Cannot See My Old Friends...

I cannot see my old friends
I knew long years ago.
Or hear their gentle voices;
Those days are gone, I know.
The mem'ries that now fill my heart
Bring happiness and pain.
I cannot see my old friends
Or feel their touch again.

I cannot see my old friends;
The friends who were so true;
Who shared the times, both good and bad,
That all of us went through..
We played our games and lived our lives;
We never failed to care,-
And if I tripped and fell, I knew
My friends would be right there.

I cannot see my old friends;
The teardrops sometimes start
When I recall the memories
They left here in my heart.
Perhaps when earthly bonds have loosed
And set my spirit free;
I'll once more see my old friends
For all eternity.

finis...

Promise Me You'll Always Be My Friend...

2009-06-22T06:54:00.000-07:00

Here is another poem. I wrote this one only a couple of months ago. I hope you enjoy it.

I cannot stay beside you,- on such a night as this.
A night when every star is in your eyes,
And beckons me to lie with you, and this I cannot do,
Although my heart does soar up to the skies.

Your blood red lips entice me; they softly call my name
And whisper words of love into my ear,-
But I can find no reason; none that is good enough,
That I forsake the one my heart holds dear.

For we were once two precious friends, (that now seems far away)
And walked together; warm then was your touch
But only then as a true friend, your countenance was fair;
I loved you then enough, but not too much.

I came upon a sight one day, of you and someone else
And when I looked at her my heart was fast.
You told me this girl was your friend; would be forever more!
I knew then I had found my love at last.

You followed close behind us as we two walked down the aisle
And bound our souls together with a vow,
And you were always there with us when'er we needed you.
If love came hard for us, you showed us how.

Then came the time when all was not the same as once it was.
I saw a change come over my sweet girl;
I watched her now and saw her loving eyes begin to dim.
The time had come when she would leave this world.

I just could not admit it,-I'd lose the one I love.
But you were there to help me through the pain.
I wept tears though I tried not to; I couldn't hold them back;
You told me then our loss was Heavens gain.

So now there's just the two of us where three of us had been;
A year has passed since we said our goodbyes
And you could be my lover now instead of just a friend;
You feel that now,-I see it in your eyes.

But I know now that I can never really let her go;
Her love and mem'ry I have locked within.
Please say I'm wrong in thinking that you want to take her place;
But promise me you'll always be my friend.

finis...

It's Really Hard To Say a Last Goodbye,-

2009-06-15T20:51:00.000-07:00

I have a bunch of poems and songs and I wonder if they will ever get read, at least in my lifetime, so I decided to post a new poem or song every week (maybe more often) until they run out. With some of them I may put a link to an MP3 or You Tube Video of that poem or song. I hope some of you folks will find at least one you like.

This is the first one. JC aka Ca...

We Never Got Sick or Injured...I Wasn't Worth It...

2009-06-11T19:13:00.000-07:00

Our daughter,Tracey, called a few minutes ago and wanted to know how to find something on the internet. I, of course, gave her the standard answer: ‘Type it into google.’ That always works for me.

Googling things is a lot like staying well was when I was a kid. Now when you need to know something, you call on Google. When I was a kid, to stay well, my sisters and brother and I, under the strict supervision of our Mother, took “Calatabs” and “Black Draught" and kerosene and sugar for colds and used Merthiolate for skinned places, large gashes, small gashes and anything else that bled.

The calatab was a small, round slick pill. (No one ever knew what was in it) It shouldn’t have been hard to swallow but it was. When you tried to gulp it down, it went as far as the top of your throat and stayed there all day. I’ve eaten as much as a whole loaf of Kilpatricks bread trying to get the calatab to go down but it never worked. I think it eventually just melted away. It was the first in history, 'time release pill.'

The Black Draught was worse. It was in a flaky, grainy but very fine powder form and to do any good, it had to be taken into the mouth dry and washed down with a glass of water. I remember how hard it was to get all of the powder down. Sometimes it took up to three glasses of water to get it all down. It was bad enough to gag a maggot! I think I was only sick once or twice during my entire childhood.

Us kids learned at an early age to not catch colds. The best medicine for colds was sugar mixed in with a little kerosene. I remember wondering if I would blow up if I took that 'medicine' while I was standing too near the stove. And, if I snuck around and smoked,i made sure it wasn't while using the outhouse after taking Moms 'cold medicine.'

I never took cuts or abrasions home either. I did for a while when I was very young, until I realized merthiolate burned much worse than the skint place hurt.

Merthiolate was a red medicine in a little bitty brownish/reddish bottle. It had a cap that screwed onto the top and attached to the underside of the cap was a glass applicator than went down into that bottle of liquid fire. I’m sure the reason Merthiolate was in such a small bottle was, if there was too much in a bigger bottle, it would break out into flames and burn up. It was that hot!

Once, when I was swimming in the river down at the pipe, I cut my right knee to the bone on a broken beer bottle. I climbed out of the river and found a wad of paper and held it on my knee to try to stop the bleeding until I could get home which was a half mile away. It still bled pretty good and, just as I came in sight of my house, I remembered the Merthiolate and immediately turned around to go back to the river and tough it out. (as tough as you can be at age ten)

Too late! My mother saw me and started yelling for me to 'come here, right now!' I was caught. I reluctantly went on to the house and showed Mom my slashed knee. She said, "James Cameron, what have you done?" I didn't answer because I knew it was pretty obvious what I had done. Somehow I felt guilty for having had an accident; I should have been more careful and inspected the entire river bed before going into the water.

Anyhow, Mother got a clean dish towel and tore a strip off of it then got the Merthiolate. I told her it was much better now and would probably be all right, but you know Mothers, they think they know better about everything. Mom said, "James Cameron, now, I know better than that," and she sat me down in the front yard on a peach crate and cleaned the gash and, no matter how much I whimpered, applied the Merthiolate liberally. I know the neighbors are still wondering what the ensuing loud scream was about; maybe a mountain lion had wandered into the neighborhood and was calling his mate.

It burned like fire and Mother comforted me as she always did with, "James Cameron, now you shut that up or I'll give you something to yell about!" Well, I figured I had enough to yell about already so I shut up and quietly waited for the fire to go out.
Mom opined as to how maybe now I would think twice about going back to that river and maybe catching polio. She was right; I did think twice,-once on the peach crate and once on the way back to the river.

There was another medicine a lot like merthiolate. It was called, “Mercurochrome.” I asked my Mother once why we didn’t use that one and she said it wouldn’t do any good because it didn’t burn! Go figure! It made sense to her.

Later......

A Fun Day Today...

2009-06-07T10:45:00.000-07:00

Today will be a fun day. My niece is here from Arkansas where her husband, Tom, is stationed in the military and Mi Espousa (a little Mex lingo here) Donna and I are going to a get-together with her and more of the family. It will be held at her husbands' parents house.

Her name is Mary Lynne and the first thing she said on the phone was, "Uncle James,-you and Aunt Donna have to come to our barbecue," and the second thing was, "And bring your guitar!"

And I, being the outgoing and gregarious person that I am, will be more than happy to comply!

I suggested to Mi Espousa (a bit more Mex lingo here) that we take our laptop PC and entertain the folks but she poo-pooed that suggestion. I will, howsomever, take said PC anyhow, just in case she changes her mind.

Anyhow, it should be a toot. I'll let you know later. Have a good one!

Later...

'Duh...'

2009-06-01T18:49:00.000-07:00

A little known fact:

The first testicular guard "Cup" was used in Hockey in 1874 and the first helmet was used in 1974.

It took 100 years for men to realize that the brain is also important.

Later...

George and Carlos... Gone Fishing...

2009-05-30T20:04:00.000-07:00

I had visit from a friend of mine and he wanted me to tell this story of a couple of friends of ours. So said, "Hey! What the Hey! Why not!" So, without further ado, here it is. Enjoy...

George and Carlos... Gone Fishing...

George and Carlos were about as close as two friends can be. George was a medium sized Aquarian, 5' 81/2" tall and 155 pounds with no fat. He wasn't a muscular fellow but he was well built and just a bit good looking.
Carl was a typical Scorpio male, tall and wiry, narrow at the hip and wide at the shoulders with a ruddy complexion and slightly rusty-reddish hair,-and very athletic.
George and Carl worked at the same plywood/paper mill. George was a cracker-jack plywood maker and Carl was a top notch paper maker. On their days off, they were always together doing something.
George worked eight hours a day from eight am to six pm, five days a week. Once in a while he worked overtime, a double shift, but that was the exception, not the rule.
Carl worked a weird rotating shift so that every three cycles he had four consecutive days off. When that happened, they popped a diet pill apiece, loaded up the cool chest with Budweiser Beer, rolled a few joints and headed for a two day sturgeon fishing trip on the Snake River, just upstream from Clarkston, Washington, toward Asotin.
Sounds pretty pleasant, doesn't it; typical days off stuff? Well, it started that way.
The boys had everything packed up and were just about ready to head for the river. Carl usually drove because George always got a bit of a head start on the pills, he being an impatient sort, and was hyper-hyper.
However, this time they both got head starts and, not only was George loaded, but, Carl, also, was soaring.
Carl had a 3/4 ton, 4X4 Ford Pickup which they always drove to the river. George had an Olds 98 he drove. This time they were missing a certain type of bait and needed to go to the next small town to get some.
Rather than drive the pickup all that way, they decided to drive the Oldsmobile since it would be quicker.

If you've ever been high on diet pills, you can understand that things tend to speed up some when you get in a hurry. The hurrier you get, the speed-upper things get. Today would be no exception.
Carl and George got in the Olds 98 and headed for the small town to get the missing sturgeon fishing bait. George had been planning to change the oil in his car for some time and there was five quarts of oil in the trunk.
After they had driven a ways, George, wired to the hilt and ready for anything and everything, decided this would be a great time to change the oil in his car. Carl, also super wired, agreed so they watched for a side road, a dirt one that led away from the highway. They found one right away and turned down it, headed away from the highway and civilization.
When you live in the country and need to change your cars' oil, you find an out of the way place where there is a slight depression over which you can pull your car. There you crawl under the car and drain the oil out into the depression and it flows away from you, the car and the car tires.
When George was loaded, he wasn't the sharpest tack in the box, as you will soon see.
They found the depression and George crawled under the Olds, removed the oil pan plug and watched the oil drain from the car. He noted how neat the oil looked as it rushed into the depression/oil drain place and flowed away to where ever car used -drained oil flows.
He replaced the drain plug and slid out from under the car and proceeded to pour the new oil into the oil spout. When he finished, he checked the dip stick. It was covered with oil, maybe a bit too much but he noted he hadn't changed the oil filter. That would account for the slightly excessive oil on the dip stick. Good job. Now, let's go fishing.
'Oops' He got into the car, started it up and let it run for a few seconds.(It was so quiet-new oil works wonders) He slipped the transmission into drive to pull away and nothing happened. He looked an Carl, "What the heck is wrong?"
At this time, it would be impossible to determine which of the two wonders was the loaded-est. Carl said to try it again. George tried it again. Nothing happened again. Carl got out and opened the hood and checked the oil. He saw it was all right, just a little bit overfilled. He got back in the car and they discussed it briefly. Even if the oil was a bit over, the car should still go.
Carl asked if George could think of any other reason the car wouldn't move. George mentioned that the new oil was a different color but that shouldn't make any difference. Carl asked what color it was. George said amber. Carl asked what color the old oil was. George said purple.
A huge light came on above Carl's head; so bright, it almost blinded both of them. Carl got back out of the car and told George to get out, too. He raised the hood and, once again, checked the oil. The dipstick showed ten quarts. Then he checked the transmission dipstick. This dipstick showed zero transmission fluid.
Carl started walking back down the dirt road, back the way they had come. George asked Carl where he was going and Carl said, "To town to buy some purple transmission fluid."
George and Carl were very late getting to their fishing spot that night. This episode was never mentioned again. I have no idea what story they told their wives as to why it took so long to get the sturgeon bait. But, I know it must have been a dandy.

Later....

2009-05-22T20:44:00.000-07:00

Happy Mothers Day...

2009-05-10T07:02:00.000-07:00

Happy Mothers Day to all you wonderful women who make it all worth while! (And who made all the children-with a dash of help from Dad)

Remembering on this special day, my Blessed Mother, the reason I am whatever I am! I miss you, Mom...
Your Baby, always...

Later...

Trying a New Place...

2009-05-05T07:22:00.000-07:00

Mi Espousa, La Donna d'el Nebraska (a little Mex lingo here) and I are going to try out a new place to play music and entertain old (some older than us) folks. It is the Senior Citizen Nutrition Center in Shasta Lake City. (Formerly Central Valley)

It's about forty miles from here. That's actually a bit farther than we want to drive to entertain but they need someone so we agreed with the lady who runs it to give it a try. If we can make enough money in tips to pay for our gas, it may be worth going that far. We'll see how it goes.

Later...

Jam Session Follow-up...

2009-04-26T07:18:00.000-07:00

We went to the jam session and got there at about eleven thirty. As we drove up to Jans place, we saw Chuck getting into his car. He was leaving. Jan met me there and told me she had asked Chuck to not play his bass guitar because it screwed up the music. She suggested to him that he let me (or someone else) teach him how to play properly. She asked him to leave his bass and amp in his car and come in and just sing but he refused.
Chucks wife and his mother-in-law, two very obnoxious ladies, were waiting for me when I walked into the house. The mom-in-law accused me of making the statement, 'I wouldn't go to another jam session if Chuck was allowed to play his bass;' I agreed that I had said exactly that and I meant it. Then Jan came by and told us she wouldn't allow arguing here and I was more than happy to abide by her wishes and I walked on into the house.
Our friend, Grady, a lead guitar picker and singer came, as did Ray and Faye, a couple who are very good singers and players. And Faye plays a pretty solid bass guitar. Loretta, a great singer who lives in Paskenta and has her own jam session there once a month, showed up. Her husband, Raymond, didn't come with her. He is beginning to really feel his age. He's in his eighties.

All and all, it was a very good session. I hope the next one goes as well.

Later...

Jam Session Time Again...

2009-04-25T10:22:00.000-07:00

Well, It's Jam Session time again. This is where we go to places (this time it is Jan's house) and take a dish of food and our musical instruments and sing and play and eat. We usually have a great time.
Donna and I missed the last one. There is a guy who brings his bass guitar and plunks on it during the songs. The problem is, he has no idea of how to play the thing and he usually plays in the wrong key and screws up everybody's music.
We missed the last session because we thought he would be there. I left a session early the one before because he was screwing up the music and the guy, Ken, who runs the session wouldn't tell him not to play the bass.
Some friends who have been gone for a while, came back and the lady plays the bass and does a good job. When she is here, we don't need to worry about Chuck plunking on his.
I am taking my bass in addition to my guitar, just in case Chuck shows up and the lady bass player doesn't.
It's up to the person who sponsors the session to make sure no one screws things up. She said she would tell Chuck he could come but to leave his bass at home.
The guy is weird. I offered to teach him how to play at no charge but he just cannot admit he doesn't know how. Oh, well.
Gotta go,-see you later. Wish us luck!

Later...

Right Lane and Left Lane...(?)

2009-04-23T06:35:00.000-07:00

Well, for those who are interested, here are the two new chairs I got to replace my elderly one that bit the dust recently and went to the Lazy Boy Reclining Chair Heaven. (aka,-the Tehama County Dump). They were manufactured by Lane Furniture Industries.
For thirty eight years, I have had a reclining chair and Donna sat on the sofa. Some years ago when her Mother passed on, she got her Mom's recliner and I thought, 'That's nice,-now each of us has a recliner'.
'oops',-huh uh,-She wouldn't sit in it because it belonged to her beloved Mother and she held it in esteem, in memory of her Mom, and she didn't want it worn out or damaged or something else.
I have to wonder what will happen to the chair should Donna pass.
(If she 'goes' before I and I am left behind, her Mom's chair will join my old chair in the Lazy Boy Reclining Chair Heaven,-it deserves a decent burial)
So, instead of sitting in it, she carefully and lovingly placed it in the entryway between the living/dining/laundry room and now, instead if damaging it by sitting in it, we walk around it (actually, squeeze by it) and she uses it on which to put clothing which she is folding as it comes out of the electric dryer. (she says that won't hurt it,-just make it warm from the just dried clothes)
I show her, though. ..'sshhh'... Sometimes when she is gone to San Francisco to receive the gift of a cold from her sister and bring it back here to share with me,(she's so generous,-just like her sister) I purposely wash a load of clothing and dry it in the electric drier just so I can,- NOT STACK IT ON HER MOM'S CHAIR TO FOLD.
Just for spite, I carry the clothing into the Masters (that's me) bedroom and place it on the bed and, being careful not to lie on top of any of it while I am sleeping, in a few days, after it has cooled off sufficiently and the wrinkles have set properly, I fold it there.
Anyhow, after my chair did it from the both of us using it for many, many years, she unfairly insisted she needs a chair of her own.
I remind her that she already has a reclining chair and she calmly explains to me, "Oh, no,-that's Mom's chair." I have started, a couple of times, to remind her that her Mom is dead, but, being somewhat familiar with her occasional temper tantrum when she is dis-agreed with, I wisely (and fearfully) kept my mouth shut.
Anyways, looking at the picture here, the chair on the left facing you is the 'Left Lane', and the chair on the right facing you is the, 'Right Lane.'
Howsomeever, since I never stay in the 'Right Lane' when I'm driving on the freeway, I prefer to label the Lanes from looking from the back; ergo, (or is that,-I.E.,-Oh, well) I will be sitting in the 'Left Lane' and Mi Espousa, La Donna d'el Nebraska, (a little Mex Lingo here) will be sitting in the 'Right Lane'. I usually stay in the 'Left Lane' because the road surface is almost always smoother. (or is that, 'More Smooth, uuumm,-oh, well)
Most of the time, when I am in the passing lane and someone comes up behind as if they want to pass and I move to the right, (I'm so courteous) instead of going on, they slow down when they get alongside of me and I am forced to slow because of the slower traffic ahead of me.
And so, not wanting to compromise my speedy position, I stay in the Left Lane and force the bum to pass on the right. I drive a Mercury Marquis which is a big car and is pretty comfortable and I just hate it when some little old bitty Volkswagen or Honda or something like that comes up alongside me and I have to slow down...uummm,-Les see... what the hell was I talking about?
'oops'... Oh, Yeah,- the chairs!
Well, (I say that a lot,-it indicates I am thinking)anyhoo, there it is; I have said about all there is to say about our brand new Lane Recliner Chairs, the 'Right Lane' and the 'Left Lane'.(or is it the 'Left Lane' and the 'Right Lane'-oh, well.) Now you know as much about this as I do (which ain't saying much,- and who really cares, anyhow) and you can, or may, do with it as you will. (Or won't-that would be up to you)

Now, wasn't that exciting! Was it good for you? It was sure good for me!

Later...

Joel Osteen-A Man After God's Own Heart...

2009-04-20T16:19:00.000-07:00

I was raised and baptized into the Church of Christ, a Bible only church. My family never strayed from the Bible message of hope and faith.

Having said that, I now will say,-I believe Joel Osteen is the best Christian person to come along to encourage people to love God and believe in Him, during bad times -and good times, that I have ever heard. I enjoy listening to him so much, I decided to put his 60 Minutes interview on my blog. It is a bit long but I hope you will listen to it and enjoy it as much as I do.

Later...

Bummer...

2009-04-14T07:08:00.000-07:00

I just walked into the great room and, as usual, sat in my private (It's mine!) Lazy Boy lounge reclining super comfortable,-I've had it forever it seems,- (it might need a bit of cleaning and the cushions on the arms have semi-separated from the arms foundations so that a small object could, if need be, be hidden between the loose cushions and the arms themselves)'whew'-chair and leaned back and heard a loud 'POP'-hence,-

Bummer...

After shuddering uncontrollably for a inestimable (or so) second, I arose to determine what had caused the loud, terrifying 'pop'. I pulled the aforementioned Lazy Boy lounge reclining super comfortable,-I've had it forever it seems,- (it might need a bit of cleaning and the cushions on the arms have semi-separated from the arms foundations so that a small object could, if need be, be hidden between the loose cushions and the arms themselves)'whew'-chair forward and into the

center

of the great room and tipped it up onto it's front and proceeded to unhinge the back from the base to determine what it was I wished to determine,-that is to say,-(finally) what had caused the 'POP
I put my hand on the backing facing (a little play on words there) and felt a very sharp point of something inside the chair back.
This explanation is starting to get tiring so I'll cut to the chase.
There is a sheet of material that covers the bottom of the back of the chair. (which, by the way, had slipped right out of the base with a small tug I gave at the suggestion of Mi Espousa, La Donna d'el Nebraska ((a little Mex lingo here))i.e.,my wife, Donna) I whipped out my trusty under water proof pocket knife which was given to me by my best of all time friend, Ken Akin, (he's gone to the great scuba diving area in the sky) and cut a slit in the material in a manner that would allow it to be re-attached by sewing later, if need be, and looked into the orifice.
'Voila!' There, in un-plain sight, was a broken spring! It was made of tensile steel and was snapped a ways out from the edge where it was attached.
'whew' I'm getting weary, telling this story in the manner in which I'm telling this story. I'll start over.
I sat in my recliner and leaned back and a spring broke in the back of the chair. I checked it over and determined it couldn't be repaired satisfactorily and, since the chair was kind of ragged from long and faithful use anyway, I took it to the broken Lazy Boy Recliner Chair Heaven (the county dump) and shopped around and bought two new chairs, Lanes, one for me and "One More For the Road," -'oops',- one for Donna.
Now I ax you, wasn't that better?
That's it,- There ain't no more, at least, not at this time.
Now you have the long and the short of it and you can,-or may,- do with it as you will -or won't. I hope this revelation has helped to make your day a bit brighter!
Don't thank me,-it's the least I could do under the circumstances.(whatever 'the circumstances' are)

Later...

My Other Bargain Car...

2009-04-08T12:12:00.000-07:00

I was sitting in the drivers room at the J H Marks Trucking Company in Pueblo, Colorado, in 1957, playing cards with several other drivers. We were waiting for CFI to call in orders for loads of pipe to go to drilling rigs, and etc.
This was in the winter of '57, the year before I went to work for E L Farmer, and it was snowy and colder than a witches tit around there. We were playing 5 card stud. Jack Settles was in the game and we were talking about our cars and how easily (or hard) they started on cold winter days such as this one.
I had a 1953 Mercury that looked exactly like this one, even the same color, except the paint was good on mine and Jack had a 1937 Chevy. My car had started easily that day for a change. It usually was very hard to start. Jacks Chevy (it was exactly like this one pictured) had not started that day (it usually started up when no one elses' car would start)and he had to bum a ride to work and he was super pissed about it. He ran the battery down very quickly cranking on it.
As I dealt the cards, he said, "I'd sell that damned Chevy for twenty bucks!" -'oops'- I reached into my pocket and pulled out a twenty and tossed it over the table to him. He looked at me and at the twenty and heaved a great big -'I shouldn't have said that'-sigh. I know he wished to himself he hadn't said that but we were Texans and he had committed so there was no complaining and no going back. Bummer! He frowned and then grinned and said, "It's time for a new car anyway." Then he took the title to the Chevy out of his wallet and signed it and threw it over the table to me.
Neither of us worked that day so, when we left that afternoon, I gave Jack a ride home. On the way, we went by my house and got my wife so she could drive the Merc back home and I could drive the Chevy and we went to an auto parts store and I bought a new battery. I put it in the Chevy when we got to his house and I cleaned the terminals and my brand new 1937 Chevrolet kicked right off and started every day on the first try from then until my wife (not this wife; the first one) wrecked it about six or seven months later.

It was the best twenty buck car I ever owned!

Later...

Long Ago and Far Away...

2009-04-07T16:35:00.001-07:00

I was mulling over some things I did many years ago, looking at pictures and reading in my journal about my past escapades and I came across this photo.
(Not this one; the one at the bottom of the page that shows me overhauling a transmission on my front porch)
This was October of 1958 in Pueblo, Colorado. I was working for the E L Farmer Trucking Company, driving an R200 International tractor with a JT Cummins engine, pulling a pole trailer, hauling oil field pipe loaded out of the Colorado Fuel and Iron Steel Mill to many points south to various and sundry oil well drilling rigs.(and some pipe yards)
Most of my trips were to the Jicarilla Indian Reservation near Aztec and Farmington, New Mexico. Some went on to Texas, mostly around Odessa and Midland and McCamey, to drilling rigs in much of the Permian Basin.
On this one trip over the Wolf Creek Pass, I had talked to a man from Walsenburg who had a 1939 Chrysler Royal, four door sedan, for sale, cheap.
He said it was a cherry car but had a gear out of the transmission; namely, second gear. He had a couple more cars and didn't need this one. I paid him fifty bucks and he signed the title and gave it to me, along with his address.
The next trip I made was to Aztec, New Mexico, to a Texaco drilling rig on the reservation.
After unloading my load of pipe at the drilling rig, I loaded my trailer onto the bolster and headache rack of the tractor to bob-tail back and headed home.
It was night when I got to Walsenburg. I found a phone and called the number of the guy who sold me the car. He came out and showed me the way to his house. Luckily, it was near the highway. I didn't have a towing bar so I chained the front bumper to the back of the truck and headed for home.
Luck was with me. I never passed a cop all night and there was very little traffic. It was pretty awkward, going around curves, since the car was snubbed up tight and couldn't follow around. It just slid sideways.
I made it home all right and dropped the car off at my house then took the truck to the truck yard and fueled it and parked it. I checked the Chrysler over the next day and it was, indeed, in cherry condition. The inside, the headliner, seats and all of the panels were perfect. Even the floormats were like brand new!
It was black and, when the dash lights came on, they were red. It sure was purty! The only thing I didn't like were the headlamp bulbs. They were the old type that are small and, when pushed into the socket, lock in when they are turned. At night they cast a very dim light compared with sealed beams.
Anyhow, that's me on the porch, with the transmission from the car. Them was the good old days, when you could take a transmission apart and replace all the gears (this needed only one) in a couple of hours,-on the front porch of your house.
The other man here was another driver. I don't remember his name but he and I went rabbit hunting together a couple of times. He was a pretty good guy but had sticky fingers. Every time we went into a grocery store, he came out with at least one extra item.
Anyhow, there you have it. Another exciting episode in the intriguing life and times of me!

BTW,-I drove that Chrysler pulling a four wheeled trailer loaded with all our belongings from Pueblo, Colorado to Modesto, California the next year. It was the best fifty buck car I ever owned.

Later...

Wildwood...

2009-04-03T10:32:00.000-07:00

Chapter One

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When I first came to Northern California, Redding in Shasta County, specifically, one of the first names I heard was Wildwood. It's a small town (or maybe just a settlement or Indian Reservation) 40 or 50 miles west of Redding/Red Bluff.

There is another town called Platina on the way to Wildwood. Platina is a small town with a city limit sign and everything.

I have never been to Platina or Wildwood so today, mi Espousa LaDonna d'el Nebraska (a little Mex lingo here) and I are headed for Wildwood.

I say, 'headed for,' because the map shows only the faintest road or trail from Platina to Wildwood. Since I will be driving my car, we won't try to tackle a road that's very bad.

Chapter Two...

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Well, hey, we made the trip and it was a very nice ride. The road was paved and wide enough all the way. It was so good I was almost disappointed.

We stopped at a rustic looking bar
and had a cup of coffee and talked with the owner for a while. I asked him exactly where Wildwood was and he said, "You're in it."
His bar is the only thing in Wildwood that resembles any kind of a business establishment.

He said the town was pretty wild back in the gold rush days. He has lived there for only twenty years. We took a few pictures.

There was a general store with gas pumps but it was about two miles from Wildwood.
Evidently the folks around there live off the land; catch fish,-poach deer and bears; like that.

We came back home by a different route. We proceeded on westerly (yeah, yeah,-I know, but 'westerly' looks more active than just 'west')on Highway 36 and then north on Highway 3. We stopped in Hayfork and had a bite to eat (Donna ate; I had coffee)

I asked around about an old friend of mine from the 60s, Max Quint, the lead guitar player of the band we had called, "The Argons." No one was familiar with the name and he wasn't in the phone book. He may have died but then, he never was too dependable. Oh, well.

We talked with some guy who had been a drummer at about the same time I was playing music in the 60s. I asked if he was still active in music and he explained he had bought a piece of land outside of town and was now a hermit. (He didn't even own a computer,-can you believe it? He said he disdained anything new or electronic,-he liked it plain and simple,-I asked him if it was much of a walk from his place to town,-he put on a blank stare and a question mark developed over his head)
I quipped, "That must be interesting." He retorted, "Yes,-I'm now doing what I like the most; nothing." Again,-Oh, well.

Then we got on Highway 299 East and headed on toward home. On the way, I had to stop for a nature call. I pulled to the side of the road at a wide spot and climbed down a very small hill and took care of business. When I finished and turned to climb back up the hill, someone had stretched it to around six times the steep and distance. I did my 'Survivorman' impression attempting (and barely making it) to climb back to the top of that 'small' hill.
Right at the top, I grabbed a limb of a small tree to pill myself over the edge and onto flat ground.(actually, it was a small twig-my Angel must have been watching over me and ordered that twig to hold my weight so's I wouldn't tumble to the bottom of that 'small' 60 foot straight down, hill)

As I sat in the drivers seat, (I still don't remember how I got there-the Angel again, I guess) I felt a double plastic hose being inserted into my nose and heard Donnas' oxygen tank being turned on. It is regulated to puff a small amount of oxygen each time a breath is taken. Now, hooked up to me, it was hissing constantly.
Donna looked panicky! I asked her why and she, in turn, asked me why I appeared panicky. I said,(when I could speak again)"I asked you first."
Now, for the third and final time; Oh, well.

All in all, it was an interesting and relaxing trip. (except for where the narrower parts of the highway had five hundred foot straight down drops to the canyon floor, mostly on Donnas side of the car; I drove over the fog line a couple of times and I thought she would it-shay)

It was an interesting day and I'm glad I finally got to Wildwood, the first time since I first moved to Redding in 1959. Peace...

Later...

Another Vacation past...

2009-03-30T06:50:00.000-07:00

Well, (I say that a lot) another vacation is past. Once again we didn't make it to Texas. Maybe next time. This time we got to Blythe and had to turn around and come back for reasons I won't go into.
We arranged for some friends of ours to cover for us at the Frontier Hall Senior Citizens Nutrition Center ('whew') while we were gone for a month (oops) so now we have to re-arrange them. I already told the one fellow that we would be back and start back entertaining this next Friday then, as luck would have it, Mi Esposas, La Donna d'el Nebraska (a little Mex lingo there for 'My wife, Donna, who hails from Nebraska) got sick. She ran a fever for a day and a night and had stomach cramps and back pain and decided not to go to the jam session that was on Sunday. She wanted me to go anyhow to support the group.
The place we go on this particular day is a community hall and we have to pay for the use of it. Jan is the lady who sponsors the jam and we pay two bucks apiece to help raise the eighty dollars charged for the use of the hall for the day. So I went.
I got there just before twelve o'clock and set up my equipment. I was number four to perform and I played the bass guitar instead of my regular guitar. Each person had a turn and time came to eat. (This get-together is one where each person brings a dish of food of some sort and we eat together and visit between music sets)
I decided to call Donna before I ate to see how she was feeling. She said her fever was 102 so I packed up my stuff and went home and took her to the emergency room of the local hospital.
She was checked in and xrayed and ultra sounded (xrayed to check for impaction of the bowel and ultra sounded to check for a kidney stone) and probed and poked (oh, and prodded to the point where she felt like whinnying) and given some vile liquid to drink and sent home to drink it. I was afraid she might have an impacted bowel but the doc said no. (what does he know-he's still practicing)
Last night she tried to eat a bite and became nauseous and felt like she would faint. I put cold compresses on her face and neck and she began to feel better. She blazed a trail between her bed and the bathroom for a while. I stayed up with her most of the night,then, when she began to feel better, I retired to my chair.
I checked on her several times during the night and she seems to be feeling better this morning. I brought her the Alternagel and a cup of freshly brewed Folgers Coffee, sweetened and creamed to her liking. She said someday I would make someone a good nurse and I told her I already was someones good nurse; hers. She chuckled and agreed.
Well, (again) I'd better cut this short (too late for 'short') before someone accuses me of whining. In case anyone is interested in any of this, I'll update it at a later date. Bye, bye now!

Later...

Saint Pattys Day Special,-'Danny Boy'...

2009-03-18T07:45:00.000-07:00

I was over at Grizz Moms' web site and saw she posted the words to the song, "Danny Boy," so I am posting it as done by the Master, Roy Orbison, the best it can be done. ("And who better than an Irishman such as myself would know," says I, sipping on a cup of Irish whiskey while dancing an Irish Jig)
Happy Saint Patricks Day!

Enjoy!

Later...

A Love So Beautiful...

2009-03-12T21:47:00.000-07:00

I haven't written here for a while; haven't had much to say but when I watched this video and heard this song, sung by Roy Orbison, I knew I had to share it. Enjoy!

Later...

The Odd Couple...

2009-02-25T11:26:00.000-08:00

This is a video I found on Big White Hats blog and I think it is really neat. Enjoy.

Later...

If I Should Die Today...

2009-02-17T07:02:00.000-08:00

I ran this little ditty off a few days ago and thought some of you might enjoy it. It ain't something I am planning for anytime soon, but who knows. Enjoy...

If I Should Die Today (What Would I Leave Behind)
If I should die today,
I'd leave behind a world I never made;
I'd leave a place where no one else has been,-
A place where memories would never fade.
If I should die today,
I'd leave behind things I alone would know,-
Things that a difference make to no one else.
I'd leave a place where no one else could go.
If I should die today,
I'd not be sad or wondering about what I should say;

I'd love and leave a shining world and all there is about it;
I'd love it and I'd show it; I'd take off and fly without it,-
I'd wear a cloak of happiness;

If I should die today.

Later...

The Couple...(Written By a Fly On the Wall)

2009-02-12T09:52:00.000-08:00

This is a tribute to the up-coming Valentines Day as seen by a fly on the wall.

The Couple...

Just look at them, the two old people who live in this house.
They're up in their seventies, but acting like two kids of eight or ten.

You'd think they'd be a bit more settled, more grown up and sober
Instead of going on about each other, just as they must have back when

They carried their lunch buckets and wondered if the other one would trade,
Would give up a peanut butter for a ham and cheese the others' mother made.

He acts as if he has to touch her every time she's near enough to touch;
And she's about as bad; she's giddy, too, like him, but not nearly as much.

Oh, look! He's handing her a slip of paper; I about can read it from up here.
There are some scribbled words there and a figure drawn across it of some kind.

It looks just like a heart that has an arrow that has pierced it through the middle
And some silly words that only say from him to her,
"I love you; will you be my Valentine?"

Oh, look! Now they're kissing!! 'blush' :-*

Later...

The Portrait...

2009-01-24T20:28:00.000-08:00

I write in a poetry place called, "The Poetry Sanctuary." It's a fun place to go and read many different kinds of prose, poetry, songs and short stories. I've posted about ten or so there and we all have fun commenting on each others work.

Occasionally I come across one that I think is exceptional. This one, "The Portrait," is one I enjoyed enough to post here on my blog. I don't think the Author, jongardner, will mind. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

The Portrait...

The Master Painter stands before
The empty canvas of my heart.
His gaze falls on the sheet so white.
With careful strokes His painting starts.

He paints a scene in darkest hues;
A world that sin has full embraced.
A hopeless world in disarray,
And in that scene, I see my face.

He paints a man upon a cross,
And adds a careful stroke of red
Upon the hands and feet and side;
The brush dipped in the blood He shed.

And with each painful stroke He makes,
Another tear falls from His face.
Oh how my heart in sorrow breaks
To know He’s dying in my place.

Unto the cross I now draw near.
In grief I reach out to this Man.
My eyes meet His as crimson falls,
A single drop upon my hand.

Beneath the cross, He paints a path
From which my feet must never stray.
It makes its way unto a hill
Where stands a city bright as day.

Upon my face reflects that light
As I look through the gates of pearl.
The Painter’s path has led me to
A brand new Heav’n, a brand new world.

He paints salvation on my face.
The Painter’s work draws to an end.
And with my portrait now complete,
He takes His brush and starts again.

Later...

Don't Sweat the Small Stuff...

2009-01-19T20:30:00.000-08:00

I was told this story by my friend, Chico the Wonder Dog. He visits me from time to time from his small dogs lawn in Doggie Heaven. I think it's good enough to post here. Enjoy!

Sometimes we overlook things because they seem trivial to us. Sometimes we underestimate because of the smallness of things… I’ll explain.

This is a story that was told to my great-great grandfather many years ago. It was told as a true story by a man who was acquainted with a monk who was there and witnessed it for himself; at least he and others there concluded by the evidence that what I am about to tell you is the only way this could have happened. It wasn’t carried down through the years much because no one really cared to hear it except my family and me. It seemed a bit too strange but I know it's true,-and not at all unusual for my line.

In the high peaks of the Andes Mountain Range in South America was a temple. The temple was at thirteen thousand feet above sea level and was run and maintained by seven monks, men dedicated to God and his teachings.

Also at the temple was a huge Saint Bernard dog, a pet of the monks and a fearless animal whose bravery was responsible for saving the lives of at least three men who, over the years, had strayed off the familiar trail while they were hiking and each had become lost.

Also, but less noticed at the monastery, was a Mexican Chihuahua named Chico. Chico had been given to the Monks eleven years earlier at age one as thanks from the family of a man the monks had rescued from the icy mountain. Chico was a pure bred, pedigreed hairless Chihuahua and was a dog of integrity and faithfulness. He knew when he arrived at the monastery that this was his home from now to almost forever. (He had to leave the monastery briefly once to marry and produce an heir) He loved the Monks and they loved him.

The Saint Bernard, however, was a different story. The Saint Bernard, whom the monks called simply, Dog, resented Chico from the beginning and was often cross with him. But Chico took it in stride and put up with it just as a thoroughbred should.

Now, on one fateful day, a message came by carrier pigeon from the ranger station below that a man had hiked one of the favorite trails and was several days overdue. The message gave all the pertinent information and the monks began readying themselves for a search.

Their gear was assembled and stowed in backpacks. And, as they always did, they fitted the Saint Bernard with a keg of brandy. (I still to this day don’t know why the rescue dogs always carry brandy instead of Irish Whiskey)

When they were all finished packing, they said a silent prayer for the safety of the lost man and for themselves and their rescue dog, Dog.
They put down extra food and water for Chico in case they should be gone for several days. Then they said goodbye to Chico and departed.

They traveled their familiar route, places where a man could stray off the trail and become lost and, after a full day or fruitless searching, they made camp. They had been going a day and half a night and welcomed the respite. Dog needed rest, too.

During the night, fresh snow began falling and by morning, it was coming down very heavily. Then the wind started blowing and a white out occurred.

The men didn’t worry much about that; they had had to put up with blowing snow many times and hadn’t ever lost their bearings.

They decided to split up, three men and Dog going one way and the other four men, the other way. They agreed that after two more days at most, they would return to the monastery.

The weather got worse but the monks persevered and finally the group of four men found the lost hiker snuggled inside a thick sleeping bag, cold and hungry but in good health. They immediately thanked God for their good fortune and headed back to the monastery.

Two more days passed and they began to wonder about the lateness of the other search party, the three monks and Dog. Then, early the next morning, the three monks arrived back at the monastery, but without Dog.

They said, as they were climbing a narrow part of the trail, Dog had wandered too far toward the edge and the snow gave way and he had fallen far down into the canyon. They heard him yelp on the way down but never heard him again. They looked for a way down to rescue him but, after a full day of searching, finally had to give up. There was no way through the snow to where he had fallen. They sadly accepted what seemed to be the fate of their faithful rescue dog.

Later that day, the rangers came up and got the hiker and returned him to his family. They thanked the monks and offered condolences for the loss of Dog.

Another day passed and the storm continued raging. This was the longest a snowstorm of this magnitude had lasted in a good many years.

Then a day later, Chico’s ears perked up and he looked toward the outside. He jumped up and ran to the front door. The monks watched him and wondered if he had heard some sound, maybe Dog whining outside. They all went outside and looked and listened but saw and heard nothing. Chico would not stop his fussing, running to the door then back again.

Then he went to his dish and ate all of his food and drank all his water then went to one of the monks, the one charged with feeding him, and begged for more. The monk thought this was strange but he put out more food and as much water as he was sure the small dog could drink.

Chico ate his food and drank all of his water then ran to the front door and began to howl softly. The monk called the others over and they wondered aloud what could be the matter with the small dog; was he missing Dog so much that it made him act strangely?

The monks decided to look again outside, at least as far as they could go in the heavily falling snow. The monk in charge of Chico decided to put a sweater on Chico so he wouldn’t get too cold.

When they opened the door, Chico bolted outside and began running as fast as he could away from the monastery and up the hill. He didn’t go up the well-used trail. Instead he veered off to the left toward a very rugged part of the mountain. The monks tried to stop him but they couldn’t catch him and in a second, Chico was out of sight.

Chico very faintly heard a dog sound; actually he felt it more than heard it. He wondered if he could do what he had in mind. If only he was in time and could hold up in this vicious storm. He went at top speed until he passed a place where the terrain dropped very quickly and for a long way down. Then he slowed to a more manageable pace and watched and listened intently.

Chico had been walking for over an hour and he began to feel the cold. It hadn’t occurred to him that he might not be able to finish this. He knew the sweater helped tremendously and was very glad he had it on.

He walked on for two more hours and was now over a mile from the monastery and the cold was beginning to get to him. He started to feel weak in his legs and his pads hurt from the cold. Chico knew there was a chance he had made a mistake about hearing Dog, but he didn’t think so. He knew now that it wasn’t a sound he had heard; this was much too far for any sound to carry. It had been a feeling. He knew he wasn’t wrong. Now he would find out if he could do what he knew he must do.

Chico began slowing down. The cold was starting to get to him. He knew that he had come so far now that he could never get back on his own. He stopped and looked around and listened. He was feeling weak now but he was determined to finish what he had started; if he could.

He sat down in the snow, just by a tree trunk where the wind wasn’t blowing so strongly. He was beginning to feel sleepy and, all of a sudden, he wasn’t as cold as he had been. Strange. His ears began to ring slightly and his eyes started to glaze over. He wasn’t aware of things like, hypothermia and such. He did, however, wonder why, now all of a sudden, he began to feel better and warmer. Strange.
He thought if he could just close his eyes for a moment, he’d see better and be some rested.

Chico didn’t know how long his eyes had been closed but he felt something warm and wet rubbing against his face. He heard a faint whimper. It almost sounded like Dog. He opened his eyes and saw the Saint Bernard lying right beside him and gently licking his face. He looked at Dog and knew the Saint Bernard was very weak,-probably from hunger. He knew that if the bigger dog had food, he would be revived and could probably make it back to the monastery. Chico might not be able to make it back but the rescue dog would be saved.

He knew what he had to do. He rose up on his front legs right at Dog’s face and began to gag himself. He gagged violently until he regurgitated all the food and water he had in his stomach. Dog immediately began eating the regurgitation. As he ate, strength flooded back into his body. He was warmed and all of a sudden he knew he could follow the small dog’s trail and make it back to the monastery. If it’s possible for a dog to do, he thanked God for Chico. Chico lay limp on the snow, unable to move.

Later in the day, the monks heard barking at the front door. They rushed to open it and saw Dog standing there, very tired but in good condition. In his mouth, held very gently, limp and weak, but very alive, was my Great, Great, Great Grandfather, the first Chico the Wonder Dog!
…And we lived happily ever after!

Later...

Blond Nails...

2009-01-08T21:53:00.001-08:00

No offense intended.

'Chuckle'...

Later...

Merry Christmas!!!...

2008-12-28T19:12:00.000-08:00

'oops'..-Is Christmas over already? Well, well,- whatta ya know!?! Just shows to go ya! Some people don't pay attention, do they?
Just kidding. I knew Christmas had passed.

How was your Christmas? Ours was pretty good. Mi Espousa, La Donna d'el Nebraska (a little Mex lingo there) and my big brother, Buddy, (Thomas) and I celebrated the conception and birth of Jesus by having dinner together. We had a ham and all the trimmings and I have another waist size to prove it! 'yuk'

We exchanged gifts and I must tell you, it's no small feat to buy for someone who already has everything. I refer to Donna Lee.

I axed her repeatedly what she wanted for Christmas and she, the same 'repeatedly', retorted (her reply was 'quick and witty') she couldn't think of anything, other than world peace, prosperity, good health and harmony,(things that I neither was able or wanted to provide) that she needed or wanted so I went for a stroll through our Communist China factory outlet store, Walmart, and chanced upon a few things she mought (look it up) like. Boy, was she in for a few surprises!

We arose at the chasm of dawn (it was nowhere near the 'crack' of dawn) and exchanged cards and opened our gifts.

I got everything I wanted, acknowledging, of course,that I hadn't known what I had wanted in the first place, since I already had everything that I wanted.'whew'

Anyhoo, Santa brung me a cell phone belt holster, a compass with a whistle on it so if I get lost on the creek whilst prospecting for placer gold I will know which way to more effectively get lost trying to find my way back. 'goody' (If I'm already lost, what good can it possibly be to know which way 'north' is?) I guess I could blow the whistle but who the hell is going to hear it,-someone else who is also lost? 'duh'

And I got a Fender Squire Stratocaster
guitar! 'yippee!' 'Santa' also brought me some new boxer shorts and hankies (evidently 'Santa" read my blog about always needing to have a clean hankie and clean fingernails)

Santa brought my brother a phone with large numbers and three crucial phone numbers programmed to quick dial.

Santa brought Donna Lee a one egg skillet with a personalized spatula! (Santa must have been hungry the day he shopped for Donna Lee)
Isn't that exciting!?!...and a set of thirty knives in a carousel, all of which were so cheap upon removable from the box and inspection, they all returned to Santas' warehouse (the Chinese factory outlet warehouse, Walmart) and were exchanged for a kitchen knife big enough to chop off 'Santas' thumb! bummer!

*I probably need to explain a bit why Santa was 'better' to me this year than he was to Donna Lee. Two years ago Donna Lee left three sugar cookies and a small glass of milk out for Santa to show her appreciation.
She made out so well that Christmas that I was really impressed so last year I exchanged the cookies and milk for half a ham, a left over from Thanksgiving turkey leg, three candied sweet potatoes, a fresh buttered cinnamon roll and a 16 ounce glass of strawberry daiquiri with extra rum.*

Well, there is more to this Christmas Saga but it's about as boring as what you have already read so I'll save it for next year.

In the interim, Have a very Happy New Year from JC and Donna Lee! We love you all and thank you all for your kind comments, especially those of which have made this blog both a pleasure and a privilege! We love you all!

Later...

Well, Shucks...

2008-12-20T16:21:00.000-08:00

Well, shucks. I made these out but neglected to post them. Better late than never. Number 1:
Tomorrow's Another Day...Yaaay!...
Tomorrow my wife, Donna Lee, and I, JC, will sing and dance and tell funny stories to older folks at a Senior Citizen Nutrition Center. It's fun and we are retired so it gives us something to do and it is our way to give back a bit of that of which we are so blessed.
I told this to a guy a couple of days ago and he asked me,"Who entertains you two?" Good question.
I guess we entertain ourselves.
It'll be fun. I learned a song I have admired for forty or so years; a Bob Dylan song,"I Want You." I'm going to slip it in between Christmas songs and see if there are any old Woodstockers in the audience!
And here's number 2:
'oops'...

I guess God didn't want us to entertain the oldsters today. When we got there, got our equipment set up and turned the computer on to get started, the PC wouldn't work. So, we came back home, I reformatted the hard drive and reinstalled the xp os and it now works just fine.

Oh, well...

Later...

The Break Is Over...

2008-12-17T16:52:00.000-08:00

Mi Espousa, la Donna d'el Nebraska (a little Mex lingo here) -anyhoo, my wife, Donna Lee went to San Francisco a while back to help her sister, Janice, pack Christmas Season relief packages for underprivileged folks in that area and she was gone for five days; five days of hell! (For me)
In all that time I didn't yell at anyone; nag anyone; order around anyone; whine to anyone; take advantage of anyone; pull the covers off of anyone; order meals prepared by anyone; have my clothing washed and ironed (underwear included) by anyone; berate anyone or snore at anyone! It was, indeed, hell!
And I had to put on my 'Entertain the Older Folks' program alone, just me, my guitar, my computer and my harmonicas. (And thirty one screaming, swooning oldsters clawing at my clothing) That, too, was a bit of hell! -'yeah,-sure it was..' hell, you say.
Well, at least, 'heck.'
Anyways, she's back now and not a moment too soon. Actually, she has been back for a couple of weeks. And not a moment too soon.
We played a little gig in Redding on Monday. it was a one hour show,-stretched to an hour and forty five minutes. We were originally slated to play for an hour but when that hour was up, the fellow who 'presented' us said we could stay for as long as we wanted to. I told him I had already been there as long as I wanted to and would do one more and Donna Lee would do one more and we would be out of there. And we did.
It was a fun gig but the thirty five mile drive there and the thirty five mile back had us donating two hours of time and eleven bucks of gasoline. I told them I didn't think we would be back to Redding for anymore of those gigs. The lady whose house we used to practice wanted us to drive to Redding just to practice. Crap on that, I said. (under my breath) Over my breath I told her we wouldn't be interested in any more gigs in Redding; we can contribute to charity with our entertainment a heck of a lot cheaper here in Red Bluff for tips and in Anderson for tips. Up to this date, I do not know of any place here that gives away gasoline. Dang!
Well, (I say that a lot as did our finest President, Ronald Reagan,-who, by the way, was also-like me- born under the sign of Aquarius) Friday is once again time to entertain old folks at the Frontier Hall Senior Citizen Nutrition Center in Anderson, California.
I'm looking forward to it. I learned a new song-a Bob Dylan song called,"I Want You." It's a 'talking' song.

Bye, bye for now. I'll let you all know how things turn out. I'm just glad Donna Lee is back. Now, pardon me while I scream to Donna Lee for a sody pop!

Later...

A Different Christmas Poem...

2008-12-04T16:24:00.000-08:00

I found this atBrians' Blog.
Thank you, Brian.

A Different Christmas Poem

The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light,
I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight.
My wife was asleep, her head on my chest,
My daughter beside me, angelic in rest.
Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white,
Transforming the yard to a winter delight.

The sparkling lights in the tree I believe,
Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.
My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep,
Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep.
In perfect contentment, or so it would seem,
So I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream.

The sound wasn't loud, and it wasn't too near,
But I opened my eyes when it tickled my ear.
Perhaps just a cough, I didn't quite know, Then the
sure sound of footsteps outside in the snow.
My soul gave a tremble, I struggled to hear,
And I crept to the door just to see who was near.

Standing out in the cold and the dark of the night,
A lone figure stood, his face weary and tight.
A soldier, I puzzled, some twenty years old,
Perhaps a Marine, huddled here in the cold.
Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled,
Standing watch over me, and my wife and my child.

"What are you doing?" I asked without fear,
"Come in this moment, it's freezing out here!
Put down your pack, brush the snow from your sleeve,
You should be at home on a cold Christmas Eve!"
For barely a moment I saw his eyes shift,
Away from the cold and the snow blown in drifts..

To the window that danced with a warm fire's light
Then he sighed and he said "Its really all right,
I'm out here by choice. I'm here every night."
"It's my duty to stand at the front of the line,
That separates you from the darkest of times.

No one had to ask or beg or implore me,
I'm proud to stand here like my fathers before me.
My Gramps died at ' Pearl on a day in December,"
Then he sighed, "That's a Christmas 'Gram always remembers."
My dad stood his watch in the jungles of ' Nam ',
And now it is my turn and so, here I am.

I've not seen my own son in more than a while,
But my wife sends me pictures, he's sure got her smile.
Then he bent and he carefully pulled from his bag,
The red, white, and blue... an American flag.
I can live through the cold and the being alone,
Away from my family, my house and my home.

I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet,
I can sleep in a foxhole with little to eat.
I can carry the weight of killing another,
Or lay down my life with my sister and brother..
Who stand at the front against any and all,
To ensure for all time that this flag will not fall."

" So go back inside," he said, "harbor no fright,
Your family is waiting and I'll be all right."
"But isn't there something I can do, at the least,
"Give you money," I asked, "or prepare you a feast?
It seems all too little for all that you've done,
For being away from your wife and your son."

Then his eye welled a tear that held no regret,
"Just tell us you love us, and never forget.
To fight for our rights back at home while we're gone,
To stand your own watch, no matter how long.
For when we come home, either standing or dead,
To know you remember we fought and we bled.
Is payment enough, and with that we will trust,
That we mattered to you as you mattered to us."

PLEASE, would you do me the kind favor of sending this to as many
people as you can? Christmas will be coming soon and some credit is due to our
U.S service men and women for our being able to celebrate these
festivities. Let's try in this small way to pay a tiny bit of what we owe. Make people
stop and think of our heroes, living and dead, who sacrificed themselves for us.

LCDR Jeff Giles, SC, USN
30th Naval Construction Regiment
OIC, Logistics Cell One
Al Taqqadum, Iraq

Later...

Enough Turkey---Now,- On With the Show!...

2008-11-30T10:07:00.000-08:00

I think that is enough turkey for anyone. Now it's time for another jam session.
This one is at the Community Hall in Happy Valley. I especially like this one because there is more room to set up and move around. Mi Espousa, La Donna d'el Nebraska (a little Mex lingo here) is a'rarin' to go and so am I! We have a couple of songs to do that we haven't yet worn out.
I remembered a John Anderson song,"Would You Catch a Falling Star," that I used to do at our club, the Sandalwood Club, in Modesto years ago.
I was perusing the You Tube network a few days ago and came acrost it and recomembered doing it years afore. I still remember the words so I'm gonna do it today.

Anyhoo, I'll get back to you at a later date, 'if the good Lord's willin' and the creek don't rise!?

Later...

Turkey Recipe-Finished Product...As Promised...

2008-11-28T15:05:00.000-08:00

Yum!! Makes me hungry again just looking at it!

Later...

Turkey Recipe...

2008-11-27T19:00:00.000-08:00

Mi Espousa, La Donna d'el Nebraska (a little Mex lingo here) gave me this recipe for Thanksgiving Turkey. She says it is the best and I believe her. The only problem is; she just gave me the recipe with no pic of the finished product. She'll give me that tomorrow and I'll pass it on to you.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING..........Here is a recipe I thought you would like for the holidays

Ingredients:
1 whole turkey
1 large lemon, cut into halves
salt and pepper to taste
butter or olive oil, whichever you prefer

Heat oven to 350 degrees

Rub butter or oil over the skin of the turkey until it is completely coated.
Sprinkle with salt and pepper and any other seasonings you prefer.

Take a knife and gently separate the skin from the breast meat;
Slide lemon halves under the skin with the peel side up, one on
each side. This way the juice from the lemon will release into the breasts.

Cover and bake for 30-45 minutes. Remove cover and continue
to roast until juices run clear, basting every 15-20 minutes.

If you've followed these steps correctly, your turkey should
look like the one in the picture.

Bon Appetit!

Later...

Happy Thanksgiving to Everyone...

2008-11-27T06:46:00.000-08:00

Donna Lee and I wish everyone a Happy Thanksgiving! Even with our limited finances after retirement, we are much better off than eighty percent of the rest of the world!

Thank God for a wonderful Country, this United States of America! And thank God for the young men and women who fight and die to keep us safe!

Later...

The Hooker...

2008-11-24T07:53:00.000-08:00

As previously promised, I have put together two more videos. One is called,"The Sands of Time."
The other is self explanatory and it is named,"The Hooker." Stop over and have a listen at JC and Donna Lee.

They are both home grown, written by Moi. Enjoy and please feel free to comment.

Later...

It Wouldn't a Happened...

2008-11-14T11:19:00.000-08:00

Ever since Donna Lee said,"I Do," the last time, things have been happening to her. Wanna hear one? OK, here goes
I bought a truck and signed on with Bekins Van Lines. I was "California Bedbug" and Donna Lee was," Tag Axle,." I ran alone sometimes but sometimes I got horny..'oops'-er..uh..lonely, and sent for Donna Lee to ride with me for a while.
This time I picked her up at the Harrisburg, Pa airport and we headed out to Minneapolis, Minnesota.(Where she'd never been before)
I had picked up a small machine, like a large copier or something of that nature, that weighed about fifty or sixty pounds. It was going to an office in a large building downtown.
When I got to the building which was about ten stories high, I double (or fiple, being in a truck) parked across the street from the building and walked across to the office and told the lady receptionist I had freight for her and axed if I should carry it across the street to the office.
She said not to, there was a loading dock beneath the building and I could pull down there and set it off on the dock. I axed her if it was big enough to accommodate my truck and she assured me big trucks always pulled down there to load and unload. OK, I said.
The door leading down to the dock was right across the street so all I needed to do was back up about twenty feet and cut across the street and pull into it. It did, indeed, appear to be plenty big, wide enough and high enough for my Jimmy Cab over three axle tractor and forty foot trailer. So off we went. Tra-la-la...
I pulled the truck into the driveway which gradually curved to the right as it descended. I could see about fifteen feet ahead of the truck and was moving right along.
"Oh, shit!" I heard someone say. It was Donna Lee. I immediately applied the brakes and axed her what was wrong. She pointed to a sign above the driveway and I reiterated,"Oh shit!"-actually a couple of times with a couple more expletives added for flavor.
Hanging from the ceiling was a sign that read,"No Vehicles Over 38 Feet Allowed."
Well, oh dear, I thought to my self. (among other things) My tractor was fourteen feet long and the trailer was forty feet long. ..'uuum..uuh..les'see..-oh, yeah,-fifty four feet is more than thirty eight feet.'duh'
I stopped and took a look and immediately determined I could not go back. I would have to back around a curve and into a busy street. I had to go on. So I did.
When we reached the loading area, I could see there was a lot of room there. The biggest problem was, the area around the loading dock was also a parking area for employees. Here we were, for best or worst.
I got out of the truck and walked to the dock where a man was standing, watching and grinning.
"Howdy," he said and I 'howdyed' him back. He mentioned I had a problem and I agreed. Now we had to figure out what to do so I could turn around to pull out.
I showed him the freight that was for here and his eyes looked a question at me as to why I hadn't just carried it across the street instead of pulling my truck down here. I silently (almost) explained to him,-the lady upstairs said to pull down here.
'Oh, Yeah,' he all but said.
He got on the phone to try to find some people who could come down and move their cars to give me more room. A few came down but I could see there wasn't much chance I'd ever get the room I needed to safely turn around.
I started pulling ahead and backing around, picking up a few feet at a time, until I was locked into my last possible position. The tractor was sort of pointed toward the out ramp but my trailer was butted up against his dock.
This was it. I axed him if Donna Lee and I could fill out work applications since we would never get out from under this building. He chuckled a negative and I grinned as weakly as I could.
All this time, Donna Lee was biting her tongue, her cheek and her lip, trying to keep quiet, feeling the last thing I needed was advice from her. I finally axed her, mainly to be polite and include her in, what we should do? She chuckled and said,"Let's just get in and pull out."
Well, I shook my head and looked at the dock man and at my trailer (it was a Kentucky, solid as a granite rock) and he wondered what would happen if we did, indeed, pull ahead. I pointed out to him that the corner of my trailer was jammed against the right corner of his dock. He wondered what would happen if I pulled out anyway; would it hurt the trailer? I told him it would not hurt the trailer but it would take the concrete corner off his loading dock. He axed how much it would take and I looked it over and opined it would take about a ten inch chunk all the way to the floor, leaving a semi-rounded corner instead of a square corner. He grinned and said,"Go for it!"
I axed him if he was serious and he said he was so I did just that.
When I eased forward, I felt the pressure on the trailer so I codded it a bit and heard a loud 'POP' and everything got easy. I looked in my mirror and saw the nice, smooth rounded corner of the dock and the man waving goodbye so I nodded in the mirror and never again looked back.
Now, if Donna Lee hadn't married me, she would never have been almost imprisoned under a ten story building in downtown Minneapolis, Minnesota and would never have been instrumental in redesigning a loading dock twenty feet underground.

It just wouldn't a happened!

Later...

A New Page Has Begun..

2008-11-13T08:04:00.000-08:00

...in my life today. It is the first day of the seventy second year of the life of Mi Espousa, La Donna d'el Nebraska, (a little Mex lingo here) aka, Donna Lee, my wife.(Ain't she cute,-alpha and omega)
Mi Espousa was borned on Friday the thirteenth of November in the year of our Lord, nineteen hundred and thirty six, the year of the Rat.
(wait,-you say that's bad luck) Yeah, but she eventually got very lucky because she met and married moi! Now ain't that a trip!

OK, OK,- I'll wait and ax her if you think I should.

The last year has been an interesting year. We have just lived some days and have cogitated other days, mainly of our mortality.

The phone just rang and it was my sis-in-law, Janice, calling from San Francisco to wish her sister a happy birthday! Now wasn't that nice? Yes it was and let me be the first to say so!

We're going to Redding today and get my big brother whose birthday is the 15th (he'll be 82) and I'm taking mi espousa y el mi hermano to Home Town Buffet for their birthday lunches! Yum!! (We ain't having Burritos)

The last thirty seven years, six months and twenty three days (less three hours)have been a real trip. You wouldn't believe the things Donna and I have been into since we married. I have always been a person to say,'let's go for it,' and Donna was a very logical, reserved person before she met me. Boy, has that changed for her!

I just thought of a really good project for me and my blog! I'm going to tell about things that have happened to Donna since she married me that I'm sure wouldn't have happened to her otherwise! Start watching for them! This is gonna be fun!

In all cerealness, though, Donna Has been a wonderful, patient person as Mrs Me and I love her more than I can rationally say. Now I am going to shave and wash my hands and face and clean behind my ears and clean my fingernails and make sure my hanky is clean and...'whoops', I reverted back to the third grade momentarily (except for the shaving part) for un momento, muchas gracias. Boy, is that spooky! I was looking around for Miss Crews, my third grade teacher! 'whew'

Well, as I started to say, I need to get dressed and scrape my face and brush my snags so I can take my Honey to her Birthday Lunch. See you later!

Later...

Today's Another Day...

2008-11-06T18:44:00.000-08:00

I just left a new friend over at Daytona Franks'Newsroom place at My Fox-Orlando. We had conversations about political things, mainly the presidential campaigns. He was very pleasant to talk with and I sort of hated to leave that blog but I've had it with talking about people who are so stupid they will vote for a really bad man as president. That will, as it were, be their problem and one they will not enjoy!
Barack Obama is a really bad, racist person and it'll start to show in a few months. You people who are still working for a living will notice it first, when the first tax increase begins at the end of Bush's term.
To me, being on social security, it might not matter much. I hope not and I sincerely hope I never have a reason to say,"I told you so." HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
I hope I have made myself clear.
Anyhow, there will be no more political posts on this blog!
Mi Espousa, La Donna d'el Nebraska (a little mex lingo here) and I will once again, tomorrow, play music for and entertain old folks (some older than us )at the Senior Citizens Nutrition Center in Anderson, aka, Frontier Hall.
And I have to make another video for JC and Donna Lee, You Tube.

Anyhow, I'll see you all again tomorrow. Until then, Adieu,au revoir, hasta la vista, adios, auf Wedersehn, so long, good bye and ta ta.

Later...

You Can Never Go Back...

2008-11-03T09:36:00.000-08:00

Whilst once again perusing my Journal, I came across this short piece I wrote in my blog in 2005. It struck a chord and I decided to re-post it.
*Some thoughts on March 5, 2005
You can never go back.
I drove down to Modesto last week to visit some relatives. After a nice visit, I began to think about the place where I grew up. It is on the east side of Modesto, in the Airport District, on South Conejo Avenue, a street that goes down to the Legion Park which runs along the Tuolumne River for quite a ways.
I grew up in a one room shack until I was nine or ten years old. Then my Mom and Step-Dad built a bigger house. The bigger house was nicer and roomier and my memories are about both houses.
When we lived on Conejo, my Mother planted a small tree. It was some kind of Cedar, I think, and was about two feet tall when she planted it. It eventually grew to around 60 or 70 feet tall and was huge.
Now the house is gone and an apartment building is in its place.
Across the street that is just before my house, Bonnie Brae, is a rock house where the Schmidts lived. Mrs. Schmidts' Mother lived in a house in the back. Her last name was the same as mine.
Down Bonnie Brae lived the twins, a girl and a boy, Sissy and Sonny, the first kids I met when I came to the Airport District.

Next door to us was the Carpenters' house. The old man built a really nice house and put a chain link fence around it to keep the boys away from his two daughters. It worked for a while.

The houses that were there when I moved there in 1943 are still there for the most part. They're old and decrepit but still livable. It's hard to believe that so little changed in 61 years.

Hillside Drive turned right off Conejo and the lanes were separated by a row of palm trees. Now the lower street is gone. The county bought it and cleared all the houses out. As I drove down the street I almost felt an animosity toward the county for tearing down all those shacks, the homes of my friends, most of them long since gone.

Driving along the streets of the neighborhood, I again felt the same feelings I did in 1945. Each house was a familiar place to me and I found myself looking for someone I knew. Maybe I will stop at a house and knock on the door and ask if Junior Greens' family still lives there. Junior was the first soldier from the Airport District to be killed in the Korean War. Everybody cried about it and everyone went to his funeral. But I didn't stop.

Everybody cried when President Roosevelt died in 1945. We were sitting outside under an apricot tree when the news came over the radio.I was only nine years old but even my bottom lip quivered a bit.

I drove slowly by a house on Connie Way where a guy I grew up with lived. I stopped for a second to look at the place and a Mexican man came out the door and watched me. I smiled and nodded and drove away.

I'd like to say it was nice to go back to the old neighborhood but that wouldn't be accurate. I have to say, it was nice to visit the old place. I saw my old street and I saw all the familiar houses but most of them were only familiar on the outside. I know most of the people inside are new to the neighborhood; probably only been there for 20 or 30 years.

I took many of the old feelings away with me when I left South Conejo Ave. As strange as it might sound for some people, people who didn't grow up in Little Okie, the Airport District, you can visit there and you can see and hear and feel, even smell familiar things; you can visit but you can never really go back.*

Later...

Oh, Danny Boy...

2008-11-01T20:58:00.000-07:00

I have this song as a favorite of mine on You Tube. I think Roy Orbison does it so beautifully, I want to share it with you.
At the lower right corner, click on the second from the right icon to make it full screen.

Later...

RED SKELTON'S RECIPE FOR THE PERFECT MARRIAGE ...

2008-11-01T15:56:00.000-07:00

I got an e-mail from my friend, Sandy, and I think it is cute enough to share with all of you!

Now, all you 'boo-birds', I know someone will run this through Snopes but I don't use Snopes anymore after seeing how biased they are against conservatives so, have fun! (Another story)

RED SKELTON'S RECIPE FOR THE PERFECT MARRIAGE
1. Twice a week we go to a nice restaurant, have a little beverage, good food and companionship She goes on Tuesdays; I go on Fridays.
2. We also sleep in separate beds. Hers is in California, and mine is in Texas.
3. I take my wife everywhere....but she keeps finding her way back.
4. I asked my wife where she wanted to go for our anniversary. "Somewhere I haven't been in a long time!" she said.
So I suggested the kitchen.
5. We always hold hands. If I let go, she shops.
6. She has an electric blender, electric toaster and electric bread maker. She said. "There are too many gadgets, and no place to sit down!" So I bought her an electric chair.
7. My wife told me the car wasn't running well because there was water in the carburetor. I asked where the car was. She told me, "In the lake."
8. She got a mudpack and looked great for two days. Then the mud fell off.
9. She ran after the garbage truck, yelling, "Am I too late for the garbage?" The driver said, "No, jump in!"
10. Remember: Marriage is the number one cause of divorce.
11. I married Miss Right. I just didn't know her first name was Always.
12. I haven't spoken to my wife in 18 months. I don't like to interrupt her.
13. The last fight was my fault though .My wife asked, "What's on the TV?" I said, "Dust!"

WALKING AND BEER:

A recent study found the average American walks about 900 miles per year. Another study found Americans drink, on average, 22 gallons of beer a year. That means, on average, Americans get about 41 miles to the gallon.
Kind of makes you proud to be an American.

Later...

A Little Bit of Heaven-My Garden of Eden...

2008-10-29T17:09:00.000-07:00

Once again, whilst perusing my Journal, (Jims Journal) I have come across something about which I had all but forgotten. I just have to post it. I hope you enjoy reading about it as much as I enjoyed living it! It starts right after I moved to South Conejo Avenue, the Airport District, aka, Little Okie.
The first kids I met were twins, a boy and a girl named Alice and Albert Runyan. They were called Sonny and Sissy. I lived on South Conejo and they lived around the corner on Bonnie Brae.
They were very skinny, just opposite of me in build. Sissy was a pleasant girl and Sonny was the fastest runner in the world. With the foul mouth he had, he had to be fast on his feet.
Mother thought he was a great kid because, after he became acquainted with her, he would run by the house and tease her by saying,” Georgie, Porgie, Puddin’ an’ pie, kissed the boys and made them cry!” and she would run after him for a little ways like she was going to get him then she would laugh and laugh, like it was the funniest thing she had ever seen.

* It must have been summer time when I first met them because we regularly went to the river (Tuolumne River) to swim and spend the day. We mostly went to the Legion Park, which ran for half a mile along the river, from South Conejo Avenue, west to Empire Avenue. It was a very nice park, with restrooms and dressing rooms at the east end. The River immediately became my special friend. My River Angel always watched over me while I was there.
The east end of the park was called, “The Big End,” and the west end, at the Legion Hall, was called, “The little End." I’m not sure why. Maybe because there was more distance from the road to the water at the Big End than at the Little End, and so, more park grass area.*
Almost everything with which we came in contact, i.e., treed areas, pastures, dump grounds, bridges and many other things had specific names.
Across the road from our house was an open, grassy field, empty except for a small building just at a fence, which ran along the other side of the street. Farther out in the field was a wrecked fighter plane. That area was ‘the field.’ All of the area was an airport that had been closed down and out of use.
Farther over from the field were hangers, unused but still standing. Sonny, Sissy and I explored them thoroughly and played there from time to time. Later the airport would be opened up to crop duster planes, and still later, refurbished and opened up to commercial planes. But now, the airplane runway was used as a drag strip for hot-rodders. It was exciting and very noisy at times.
Up the road from our house, where Conejo makes a bend because of a canal outlet, (the canal was underground there and the gates and valves were above ground) was the "Bus Stop." The city bus, which said on its marquee,” Airport, via La Loma,” used that corner as the southernmost stop on its loop from town and back. Its driver was a man named, Mr. Reynolds. He was a very nice man and was always polite and courteous to everyone, even us okies.
Down the hill on Conejo, toward the park were homes of people I would later know but the one house that had a name was the big brick house where Uncle Dan Bagley lived called,“Wheeler’s Ranch.”
Right around the south corner from our house and on the right (everything was on the right because of the field) was Roller’s Store, a small market where we waited for the school bus. Mr. and Mrs. Roller lived next door on Connie Way. After I started to school, I usually took lunch money, and I would buy an apple each morning while I waited for the bus. Sometimes I bought a Mission Grape soda or a little wax figure filled with flavored sugar water.
Below Wheeler’s Ranch was a slough (pronounced-sloo,- like shoe) that the road crossed. It was called,”The Slough.” It was about three hundred feet wide and had many willow trees on it. They were black willow and they were called,’ the Willows.’ Us kids used to go down to the willows and climb up to the top of the highest ones and grab the end and jump off and ride the trees to the ground. They were so limber that it seemed impossible to break one of them.
Just up the hill from the willows, on the east side of the road, was an open field where the city trash was dumped. Tree trunks and grapevines were also dumped there. This place was called,"The Dump." We found a lot of great things in the dump and built forts among the tree stumps and grapevines.
The main things we looked for were funny books and magazines. But we also found clothes and other things worth keeping. The old saying,” One man’s trash is another man’s treasure,” was true.
I remember finding some violets there and bringing them home and mother planted them in an old tire filled with dirt. They grew very well and were beautiful.
On down the road toward the park, where the road curved to the right, was a pipe that came out of the bank and dumped water into the river. It was the underground canal that comes down from the bus stop. This place is called,” the Pipe.” It was a popular swimming place because the water was fairly deep where it dumped into the river and we could dive off it into the river.
Down the river from the Legion Hall was a creek that emptied into the river. It was called Dry Creek.
Off Santa Ana Avenue was a winery called the Gallo Winery. Down from Gallo’s, toward a cherry orchard was an old single story building with a finished basement. It was a large building, probably two thousand sguare feet and had many rooms on each side of a long hall that ran the entire length of the building. Each room had a closet alcove with a small door in each closet that opened into the next room. The building sat alone in the middle of an open field. This was called,” The Whorehouse,” because we thought that was what it had been at one time.
*There is a story I may tell later about the Whore House.*
Up the river is where I spent most of my life from age seven to age thirteen or so. The first field east of the pipe had a huge oak tree in the middle of it and not much else. That was called,” the Oak Tree.”
On up from the oak tree was the first wooded area. This area was fairly small, although the trees were thick and tall. It was about three quarters of a mile east from Conejo Avenue, where Conejo curved to the right and became something else as it headed to Legion Park which started about one fourth of a mile west of the curve. That area was called,” The Little Jungle.”
The river there was lined with huge oak trees and the Little Jungle had many Oaks as well as cottonwoods and willows and other trees.
Then came a fenced pasture where some horses were kept. This was called,” The Horse Pasture.”
On up from there was “The Big Jungle.” That is where I spent most of my time when I wasn’t in the river. The big jungle had many trees of all kinds grouped tightly together. Growing on the big jungle trees were wild grapevines. They were extremely thick and had been growing there for six thousand years. I know this because they were so thick that they made a plush carpet on top of the trees and, if you were careful, you could (and we did) walk and crawl on top of the trees without falling through.
It was a wonderful place of magic for me, a loner for the most part, where I could be anything or anyone I wished, limited only by my imagination. (And there was no limit to my imagination) I was Tarzan the Ape-Man or anyone else I wished to be. The big jungle was the Garden of Eden all over again for me.
Just at the edge of the big jungle, on the bank of the river, was a deep, wide pile of concrete blocks that had been dumped around a pipe coming out of the ground. Water came out of the pipe all the time. It never stopped flowing. This was called,” The Artesian Well.”
On up the river about half a mile or so was “The Hughson Bridge.” This was usually the farthest we would go up the river.
Underneath the Hughson Bridge, on the north side, was a sheer bank of pure clay that was called, "Clay Banks." It was about a hundred feet long and ten or so feet deep and was full of holes that must have been made by crawdads because crawdads were what lived in them.
A way to get the crawdads out of the holes was to stick your hand into the hole and, when one of them clamped onto your hand, pull it out with the crawdad attached. Most people would only do this once because the pinchers of the crawdads were very sharp and strong.
Sometimes they would let go at once and you had to act swiftly to get it before it fell back into the river. You had to grab it just right across the back to keep from getting pinched again. Other times we would have to pry the pincher apart. Either way it wasn’t fun after the first or second time.
This was an age where innocence was commonplace and pleasure for me was as easy as watching the morning sun come up and as close as the pipe or the big jungle!

I’ll stop here for now. Maybe later I’ll tell you an adventure of some things that took place there, in my Garden of Eden!

Later…

Thanks to All Our Friends...

2008-10-02T07:18:00.000-07:00

...for checking out our web site in You Tube! JC and Donna Lee has been a huge success for us so far. I'm aware our videos are just a tad short of professional but they are sure fun to make.
And a few of them have earned stars by people we don't even know!
One fellow says he put one of my songs,"Play a Country Song and Drink Another Beer For Me," on My Space.
Another says of the same song that I am 'awesome' and he wants to be like me when he is 'older.'
Someone else says of,"Back This Way Again," by Donna Lee, is a beautiful song and gave it five stars.
My poem,"The Shack Just South of Town," drew five stars and this message,"Great poem, I like the tone of your voice ... It's got a classic "country" sound."
All songs except,"Besame Mucho,-Throw Your Arms 'Round This Honky Tonk Man,-Green Eyes and Lonely Wine," are our own songs. It's especially rewarding to get good comments and kudos for our own songs and poems.
I have a couple more videos made that will go 'on the air' soon.
I know I've been a bit involved with the election campaign lately and, as a result, have used this blog for other than fun purposes but I'm back now. I just can't help but wonder if my being aware of the lies and deceit of Obama and the amateurism of Biden compared with the honor and patriotism of McCain and the exceptional-ism of Palin is making any difference anyhow.
I am noticing a trend by the liberal media, including many of the polling sites, to exaggerate any lead by Obama/Biden to make them appear to be a shoo-in. It's too bad Obama and Biden get away with even dishonest behavior and are not called for it by reporters.
In the words of the All-seeing and Wisest of Sages (but now deceased)Chico the Wonder Dog,"Oh, well."
(I felt him tap my left knee again yesterday as I sat at my computer-he hadn't visited for months)
Anyhoo, check JC and Donna Lee in a couple of days for new songs. Everyone's welcome.
Those of you who have dial-up may find it takes a while for the videos to load. My sister in Liberty, Texas has a very slow connection so I burn our programs onto a dvd and send them to her.(I'm so thoughtful-'gush')
Oh, BTW, I bought a Wii yesterday. I know, 'You can't afford that!-'but I got to figuring; uuum..er.-ah..les see now, I drive to the river park to walk (my exercise) and it takes about a gallon of gas to go there and back..uum..a trip a day using @4 bucks worth of gas equals @ 24 bucks a week (I don't exercise on Sunday) soooo' at the price of 349 bucks (includes tax and accessories) in about 14.54 weeks it will be paid for.
And I should be much better at bowling, boxing, golf, etc, etc, and, oh yes, did I mention, etc?

So there you have it; the facts of which I am aware to this date and time and you can (or may, whichever) do with them as you will.

Later...

The Greatest...

2008-09-22T20:26:00.000-07:00

Later...

A Time and a Place...: Half Fast Country...

2008-09-18T08:23:00.000-07:00

A Time and a Place...: Half Fast Country...

Half Fast Country...

2008-09-17T20:22:00.000-07:00

Someone at a jam session asked me what kind of a band my last one was so I thought I'd post a photo of it.(Except the drummer)
The drummer was the daughter of the lead guitar picker, Leon, the man on the left of the picture. She's out of sight at the rear of the bandstand.

Leons' brother, Ray, the man on the far right was also a guitar picker. Both men played the guitar, steel guitar, bass guitar, piano, fiddle, drums, banjo and anything else you can think of.

Leon is the bass player and a good one.

That's me with the Gibson flattop guitar and beard.

We all sang and had a great sound. I was the first country singer I know of to do,"Sometimes When We Touch," a song written and recorded by Dan Hill. We did all kinds of songs. I even sang a few of my own.

Anyhow, here we are, in the flesh. You can and may do with us as you wish. Don't forget to check in with JC and Donna Lee on You Tube.

Later...

A Really Sad Story...`1

2008-09-16T20:33:00.000-07:00

This morning I was perusing my various and sundry blogs and ran across this post on one of them.
It takes to task the act of 'growing old' and 'being out of shape-eg,- being overweight and arthritic'.
In the article, the act of seeking out Doctor Smith is actual but the description of the proceedings may be a teensy bit exaggerated.

Anyhoo, I thought it was cute and here it is:

'Ouch...'
Mi espousa (my wife; a little Mex lingo there) has been badgered by her back and neck lately. Pain, it seems, has been her almost constant, but not welcome, companion. So she did what any reasonable person would; she took a nap!--'no'--just kidding!
After several days of excrutiating pain, she went to see our favorite doctor, Doctor Smith of the Immediate Care walk-in clinic in Chico, Ca, a town 40 miles from here.(There are no good walk-in clinics in Red Bluff)
The good doctor examined her, had her stand and bend and twist and etcetera, etc, etc, and, oh yes, did I mention, etc? Then he had several xrays made of her back and neck and showed to us the finished pictures. There were no very bad bone spurs and no indication of the worse kind of osteoporosis, only arthritis. He then came to his conclusion and said aloud the most terrifying words one could imagine!
At first he hesitated, seeming to not want to say what he knew he had to say. Then, like the professional he is, he blurted it out! I cringed back in fear and Donna almost fainted when we heard his diagnosis and what had to be done to make life as bearable as possible for Donna in her remaining years!
What, you ax, did the stinking doctor say? OK, you axed for it:
He said, "Donna (the doctor calls my wife Donna because that is her name)"Donna, you need to lose weight and - are you ready? - EXERCISE!"

"GASP!!!" said Mi Espousa, (a little more Mex lingo there,-in Mex,"Gasp," is pronounced,"Gasp.")"Not that!-Anything but that!"
Then he looked at me! I could feel beads of cold sweat forming on my brow-little flashes of light rushed across my eyes and I felt I needed to sit down and put my head down between my legs (phew) in case I started to pass out!
"Doctor Smith, " I murmured, "Does that go for me, too? Are you going to xray me? I mean, after all, I'm retired!"
The good Doctor answered in his most sympathetic but professional voice, "Yes, that goes for you, too, but there is no need for an xray! It's obvious, looking at you, the rest of it, the EXERCISE, is crucial."
"Will I actually have to-'gasp'-stand up from my computer chair?"

With tears in his eyes he nodded an affirmation. Slowly, Donna and I left the building.

I don't remember pulling my car out of the parking lot-I barely remember driving home to Red Bluff. (That is, after, I foggily seem to recall, mi espousa, Donna and I pigged out at the Home Town Buffet restaurant-a panic reaction to that dreadful news from our Doctor)
Somehow I drove the forty miles home and got the car into the carport without crashing into anything.

The day was a blur, something I hope I never have to go through again. I know Donna and I have to live with the doctors' decision. I only hope the good Doctor can.

Later...

A Family Adventure...

2008-08-28T18:50:00.000-07:00

I was writing in my Journal, "Jim's Journal," and remembered this little adventure and thought someone might get a kick out of reading it. This happened in about 1959 or so in Redding, California. Buddy is my brother and Clarence is my brother-in-law.

AN ADVENTURE

Buddy owned a 1937 Chrysler coupe that had been built into a pickup. One day, the day after deer season closed, Buddy, Clarence and I drove across the Shasta Dam and turned off onto a dirt road that went up a ridge. It was a pretty good road and we had no trouble driving on it with the Chrysler. We had gone there to hunt silver grey squirrels. Buddy had a gun of some kind, I think, and Clarence had a 410 shotgun and I had a 22 automatic rifle.
I was riding in the back of the pickup and Bud was driving. Clarence was sitting on the passenger side. We had seen a couple of squirrels but hadn’t gotten close enough to take a shot at one.
Just then a huge buck deer jumped up from the left side of the road and ran down the road a short ways and stopped and looked back at us. Clarence yelled for me to shoot it and Buddy agreed so I got off a shot but the deer jumped for the right side of the road. I snapped two more shots off at him and we stopped the car and ran up to where he had gone over the side. We heard a crash, like something crashing through the brush down the hill aways.
The hill was really steep and the shale rock made it very slippery but we headed down anyhow, slipping and sliding as we went. About fifty yards we found the deer. I had hit him in the neck, just below his head and he only lived a few seconds, just long enough to crash through the weeds.
There was a small dam of a sort, probably made by water running off the hill and getting stuck between Manzanita trees. (They look more like bushes than trees. They look a lot like small, Mesquite trees of Texas.) The buck had landed just below one of these dams and we could see it would be impossible to get him up the hill, even with all three of us hauling on him.
He was a big Mule Deer, in rut, and weighing at least a hundred and twenty of thirty pounds. His neck was swollen up very big because of him rutting. (Ready for a fight with another buck for the privilege of having sex with a cute little doe around here somewhere.)
Then we remembered there was another road on down the hill about a couple of hundred yards. The big problem was, deer hunting easeon had closed the day before and we had to be very careful to not get caught by a forest Ranger or game warden.
We decided to go back home nad use Buddy’s car to come back and get the deer. We couldn’t skin or gut him here because we would be too obvious. So we did that.
After dark, we drove back and, after looking for a while, found the deer. We had a heck of a time getting him down the hill. Below the little dam he had fallen through was another one just like it. It was as if this had been planned just to make us work hard.
We dragged him over to the little dam and tipped him up and let him go. It was very dark and we couldn’t see it was a long way down over the last dam. We thought he would never hit the ground but he finally did. It was lucky for him he was dead. Otherwise the last fall would have killed him anyway!
To make a long story shorter, we finally got that deer into the trunk of my brother’s car and got back across the dam without getting caught. We took the deer to Buddy’s house and strung him up on a rafter in the garage and gutted and skinned him.
My wife, Maggie, Bud’s wife, Mary Ann and Clarences wife, (my sister) Mickey cooked up a platter of back strap that night and it sure was good, but, boy was it gamey! It made us pretty gassy and, when one of us cut one, we’d all have to go outside to get some air! It was terrible! But, it was worth it.

Later...

'So Long' to a Great Guy...

2008-08-22T07:53:00.000-07:00

I just learned that a great guy died a few days ago. He was Chester Smith of Modesto.
Some of you may not know who Chester Smith is,-or was. He was a young fellow, an Okie who came to California from Oklahoma way back when the depression was on and dust storms blew the land away from the farmers and blew the farmers to California, the land of opportunity.

Chester's family came to California from Oklahoma just like we came from Texas and all the other Okies came to California from somewhere, looking for something better.
Chester was a singer as long as I can remember, probably as long as he could remember.

When Chester was just a youngster, he finagled a disk-jockey job at KTRB Radio Station in Modesto. My family and I listened to many of his programs. He always started with a song by him and his guitar then played whatever was popular at the time.

The first time I saw Ferlin Huskey was on Chester’s disc jockey show on KTRB, Modesto about 1949 or so. Ferlin went by the name of Terry Preston, also known by his comic name, Simon Crum, and he did a pantomime of a motorcycle rider that was hilarious! Later Terry Preston decided to revert to his real name, Ferlin Husky.

Chester sponsored Hank Snow, Johnnie and Jack and Kitty Wells, Marty Robbins and Hank Williams, Del Reeves, Little Jimmie Dickens and many others at the Riverside Clubhouse, a big old barn in Riverbank, California.

And, of course, I have to mention Chester's long time close friend and fellow musician, Merle Haggard. Chester and Merle just recently made an album together.

Two other teen aged boys and I were having a drink of Seagram Seven whiskey out in the parking lot of the Riverbank Clubhouse during a break in one of Hank Williams shows when a tall, skinny man all dressed in white(they could have been brown-I don't remember for sure)western clothes walked up to us and asked,"Do you boys know where a man can get a drink around here?" It was Hank!
You bet we did! We handed him the bottle and he wiped the rim on his sleeve and took a big pull! We chatted for a few minutes and passed the bottle around a couple of times and he said he had to get back to work and he thanked us for the drink! It was the highlight of my life up until then and I've always thanked Chester for that opportunity.

And when Lefty Frizzell was beginning to get popular, it helped that Chester played Lefty's music on his DJ show on KTRB almost every day for several weeks.
Back around 1990 or so, a bunch of us ex-Okies had a Little Okie, Airport District reunion jam session and dance at the Legion Hall at Legion Park. I lived at Orland at that time and had no idea of who would show up but my wife and I drove to Modesto and got to the hall at around six PM or so.

The music started before long and I’ll give you one guess at who showed up and sang a couple of songs with us! It was Chester Smith. He knew many of us because we had gone to his drive-in cafe for cherry cokes as well as to the radio station to watch him DJ when he had celebrities performing.

My sister, Joan, went on a date with him to the Jumping Frog Jubilee right after he broke up with Ann, his first wife. She said he was a perfect gentleman.
I could go on for a long time about Chester but you can look him up on the net and find out all you may want to know about him.
I never knew how well off he was financially until now but I know what a great fellow he was when I knew him, way back when, and I'm sure he didn't change.

So, if you didn’t know Chester personally, you really don’t know him. You can take my word for it. Chester Smith was a great guy I hate to see him go but I'm glad I knew him.

Later.

He Couldn't Make It This Time..

2008-08-21T05:04:00.000-07:00

Well, (I say that a lot) Lefty couldn't make it to our Jam Session this time. He sent a message that he had a prior appointment with Hank Williams to hum a song or something of that nature.
Lefty and Hank used to play music together sometimes. They'd flip a coin to see who played first at whatever club or beer joint where they were appearing.
And, to make matters worse, there was no ice cream! I don't remember what excuse Loretta had for not making it! She was sick or taking someone to the hospital for a snakebite or something like that! Oh well! But it was a fun session. With only a few musicians it seemed a bit more personal than usual.

One regular had other business and the two who usually rode with her averred they hadn't the money for gas to travel such a distance.
One guy told another jammer he just couldn't afford to buy the gas, then he gave him a beer and offered him a cigarette. Well, who knew?

Anyhow, it was a fun day. I did a Lefty Frizzell song called,"Always Late," and Mi Espousa, La Donna d'el Nebraska (a little Mex lingo here for; my wife, Donna from Nebraska-then Castro Valley) did a couple of songs and the rest of the singers did their things and then we all ate.

The food was good and there was plenty of it. (but no I-C-E C-R-E-A-M!) We all had a good time.

Donna and I went to the creek yesterday and the day before. We found quite a bit of gold including one pretty good sized nugget. And we got some good exercise. I lost some weight,- one and a fifth ounces. Only thirty two more trips to the creek and I'll lose a pound! 'yuk'
Later...

Well, It's Jammin' Time Agin...

2008-08-17T08:20:00.000-07:00

So here we go again, headed for the big Jam Session at Paskenta. (You gotta look real clost to see it on the map-or in person) It's always fun, though, and now that the weather is so hot, Loretta makes ice cream to cool us off! Yum,-Yum!!!

(Here's a picture of my baby,-no, not Mi Espousa La Donna!-my Guild--it ain't no SJ 200 Gibson but I think Lefty 'will understand and say Well Done' -sounds like another song)

I decided to do a couple of Lefty Frizzell songs today. I haven't done them in a long time. Luckily, most of the Jammers are old enough to remember who Lefty is,-or was. He's gone to the Big Jam Session in the Sky now but I understand each time someone here in the flesh (heavy on 'the flesh') sings one of his songs, he shows up and says 'Hello!' Now, at least that's what I've been led to believe. I'll let you know what happens.

Bye,-Bye!!

Later...

Things Happen Sometimes...

2008-08-07T14:59:00.000-07:00

I just read Walker, Texas Ranger (Chuck Norris's) column and was touched by the story he told of a homeless man. Here is a link to it and I sincerely hope some of you read it. I could tell it to you but it wouldn't be as good as Chuck telling it.
Things do happen sometimes. Chucks' story reminded me of something my mother did when I was a young man.
Here is a picture of Mom about the time I am telling about.
We were in Modesto, my home town, and I was taking my mother somewhere in my car, over to South Modesto, I don't remember exactly where or for what.
As we drove by a bridge, Mom saw a homeless man, a tramp or hobo, whichever you prefer him called. She told me to pull up and stop by him and, with a question mark above my head, I did.
I axed her what she was doing and she answered by getting out and speaking to the man. She asked his name and he told her and she asked where he was going and he replied, he had no place in particular in mind.
Now, you need to remember, this was a long time ago and homeless men were just tramps or winos. But mother didn't worry about such things. She asked the man when he had eaten last and he told her then she told him to get into the car and he did.
My mother is a person who would allow no back-talk from any of her kids, even if they were in their twenties, as I was then. She always knew what was and wasn't right and never found herself needing to ask for advice from anyone.(except God)
When we reached our house, mother told the man to take off his clothes and take a bath while she washed and dried them. She gave him some trousers and a shirt to wear while his dried. She filled the bath tub and he went into the bathroom and did what he was told.
After he had his bath, Mom cooked a chicken and fried some potatoes and made biscuits and, after she said grace, we all ate.
Then we sat and talked for a while while his clothes dried. It was summer and windy and the drying didn't take long.
Then the man asked my mother why she was doing this for him; what did she want from him and she said she was doing it because she thought it needed to be done. She said a 'thank you' would be enough.
After his clothes dried, we took him back to where we picked him up and let him out of the car. He thanked my mother and asked God to bless her and she told him, God had already blessed her.
I never asked her why she did what she did that day. I never thought I needed to.

At the beginning, I said,"Things Happen Sometimes;" It's because of people like my mother (and Chuck Norris) that things do, indeed, happen sometimes.

Later...

Words of Wisdom...Obviously Written By a Former Soldier...

2008-08-03T10:21:00.000-07:00

Thanks, Gail!

New Direction for any war: Send Service Vets over 60!

I am over 60 and the Armed Forces thinks I'm too old to track down terrorists. You can't be older than 42 to join the military. They've got the whole thing ass-backwards. Instead of sending 18-year olds off to fight, they ought to take us old guys. You shouldn't be able to join a military unit until you're at least 35.

For starters:
Researchers say 18-year-olds think about sex every 10 seconds. Old guys only think about sex a couple of times a day, leaving us more than 28,000 additional seconds per day to concentrate on the enemy.

Young guys haven't lived long enough to be cranky, and a cranky soldier is a dangerous soldier. 'My back hurts! I can't sleep, I'm tired and hungry' We are impatient and maybe letting us kill some asshole that desperately deserves it will make us feel better and shut us up for a while.

An 18-year-old doesn't even like to get up before 10 a.m. Old guys always get up early to pee so what the hell. Besides, like I said, 'I'm tired and can't sleep and since I'm already up, I may as well be up killing some fanatical son-of-a-bitch.

If captured we couldn't spill the beans because we'd forget where we put them. In fact, name, rank, and serial number would be a real brain teaser.

Boot camp would be easier for old guys. We're used to getting screamed and yelled at and we're used to soft food. We've also developed an appreciation for guns. We've been using them for years as an excuse to get out of the house, away from the screaming and yelling.

They could lighten up on the obstacle course however. I've been in combat and didn't see a single 20-foot wall with rope hanging over the side, nor did I ever do any pushups after completing basic training.
Actually, the running part is kind of a waste of energy, too. I've never seen anyone out run a bullet.

An18-year-old has the whole world ahead of him. He's still learning to shave, to start up a conversation with a pretty girl. He still hasn't figured out that a baseball cap has a brim to shade his eyes, not the back of his head.

These are all great reasons to keep our kids at home to learn a little more about life before sending them off into harm's way.

Let us old guys track down those dirty rotten coward terrorists. The last thing an enemy would want to see is a couple of million pissed off old farts with attitudes and automatic weapons who know that their best years are already behind them.

If nothing else, put us on border patrol....we will have it secured the first night!

Share this with your senior friends. It's purposely in big type so they can read it.

Later...

I Guess It's Time...

2008-07-24T07:22:00.000-07:00

I guess it's time for me to tell what I see in the magnificent painting below.
I see Nessie, the Loch Ness Monster, at the top right, looking backward toward the left and, if you look to the right of Nessies' head, attached is a body which makes Nessie the Afleck goose pointed left.
Just below Nessie is Mercury, the messenger of the gods running toward the right.
Along the center/right I see the front parts of a man running toward the right with a black, evil cloud trying to engulf him.
Behind the cloud are three evil spooks pushing the cloud toward the right.
At the top, left is a dog leaning slightly forward in a begging, sitting position and at the left center is a pointy headed pigs face.
There are several more possibles but (and you'll get a kick out of this) when I asked Mi Espousa, La Donna d'el Nebraska (a little Mex lingo for 'Donna, my wife')the artist who painted this masterpiece, what it is, she said, “ As anyone can see, it is a tree with the wind blowing it's limbs toward the left."

"Of course," I answered quickly with a knowing smile, "Anyone can see that! Great job!"

Later…

Great Guys, those Texans...

2008-07-23T17:31:00.000-07:00

"...A cowboy is riding down a back road in Texas. A sign in front of a restaurant reads, "Happy Hour Special,- Lobster tail and Beer!"
"Lord, All mighty,"he says to himself,"My three favorite things!"

Great Guys, those Texans; My kind of guys!

Later...

Seventh Street Bridge in Modesto...

2008-07-16T19:41:00.000-07:00

Tweety, here is a picture of one of the Lions that were at each end of the Seventh Street Bridge in Modesto. They're still there but are really falling apart now. I sure had fun pretending to ride those Lions! Them was the good old days!

Later

A Very Interesting Painting...

2008-07-14T14:06:00.000-07:00

What do you see when you look at a painting? Here's one on which to test your imagination. Please look it over carefully and comment below on EVERYTHING YOU SEE. It'll be interesting and fun!

Later...

It's Been a While...

2008-07-12T06:51:00.000-07:00

...since I wrote in this blog. It's been a bit of a hectic time at mi casa (a little Mex lingo here) lately.
My sister down in Modesto needed a car and there was no one there to help her find a new used car so, naturally, she called on me.(I'm, also, the 'computer person' in times of need)((but, that's another story))
Anyhoo, I have been scurrying to and fro (mostly fro) here and there, (mostly there) scanning the horizon for a bargain used vehicle. I found one at a car lot here in Red bluff, a Suzuki SideKick, I think the moniker was, a smallish suv I opined she'd like so I took some photos of it and sent them to her via e-mail. I was right; she really liked the looks of it,-but,(and this is the kicker) the price was too high for her! Oh, well.
So I broadened my horizons and pulled up on the pc and perused a few days of Craigslist used cars and trucks and,-'voila!'-I found just the car; not too old and reasonably priced! It was living over the other side of Redding, some distance away, but I was not deterred and I phoned the fellow who was the owner and arranged for a time to inspect the vehicle, loaded up mi espousa (a bit more Mex lingo there) and went to that place and did, indeed, inspect the aforementioned vehicle!
*Just to clarify things, whilst I was unwittingly awaiting the advent of this, the last and chosen vehicle, to make it's appearance, I pursued many other leads, both in Red Bluff and in Redding, so, of course, some time and travel had passed and occurred; it was not just, "check Craigslist and drive over there and buy the car," by any means; hence, the passage of a considerable amount of time.(a couple of weeks)*
We did go there and thoroughly inspect and drive the vehicle and found it to be quasi (on the 'up' side) exactly what we needed! Yay!
The car had been adopted as a newborn by an elderly couple who only drove it to church and back and to the grocery store on rare occassions. (they were very slender and ate very little) During one of these trips to church, divine providence dictated they had owned this car long enough and sent another car hurtling into the right side of the newly (by us) discovered vehicle, dinging the side slightly but to the degree to render it unseemly and no longer wanted by that elderly couple.
That is how the present owner came to acquire the vehicle. He and his fiance' brought the injured vehicle home and nursed it back to health and intended to keep it forever as a permanent member of their family, and would have done just that except the lady fiance' acquired an illness and went to Heaven without her loved ones, the man and the vehicle.
The man mourned the loss of his soul mate and was reminded of her unfortunate expiration with each glance at the adopted vehicle and was compelled to find it a new home and family. -That, of course, would be my sister and, in fact, it is.
I bought the car and my sisters' daughter came up from Modesto on the Greyhound Bus and drove the car back to Modesto without incident and they all (sister, her two daughters and her grand daughter) went to Taco Bell for a taco or two each! My sisters' oldest daughter, Gail drove the brand new used car (an Oldsmobile 88) to Taco Bell and my sisters' grand daughter, Shelby, drove the Olds 88 back home and a good time was had by all! 'whew'
So now, it's jam session time once again and I and mi espousa, La Donna de'l Nebraska (a little more Mex lingo here) will go to the jam session place today and do one of our things,-sing; -our other 'thing' is eating and staying cool.

And so I go now but, in the words of our esteemed Governor, "I'll be Back!"

Later...

Try a Different One...

2008-07-01T18:14:00.000-07:00

...no, no!-not a different lady! Mine is much more than adequate.

Isn't it strange..I know from experience that, what I just said,-'more than adequate', even though it is meant to be high praise, would be offensive to some.

Mi Espousa (a little Mex lingo here) says,"Who, except you, would ever count how many center stripe dashes on the highway there are in a mile?"

I give up, -who? Pardon me while I get my thought process aligned.

"...no, no!-not a different lady!" should have progressed to; 'a voice processor to create harmony in the singing and speaking voice.'

I just sold a TC Helicon Voice Live harmonizer because it was too complicated for what I require and want. I just want simple harmony in my singing and the TCVL had several zillion settings I would need to understand to get that. (I have an un-several zillion size brain) The guy I sold it to said he has a friend who has owned one of those for three years and is still learning about it. I'm not sure how many years I have left but I don't want to take a chance on using all of them just to get a little harmony for an aging but still pleasantly riveting voice.

Anyhoo, I borrowed a Digitech 2 from a lady friend to see if it would do the job for me and decided the Digitech 4 is what I need (or rather, want) so I ordered one. It'll be here in a few days and I can start this cycle all over again, this time, I hope, with more positive effects. (or is that, affects?..uum) As the great and wise, albeit grumpy and snarling, modern day sage, Chico the Wonder Dog, would Have said,"Oh, well."

Later...

Here We Go Again...

2008-06-27T08:50:00.000-07:00

Today is another,"Entertain the old folks," day. We'll be at the Frontier Hall Senior Citizen Center in Anderson this morning from about 10:30 to 11:45 entertaining the old folks. Some of them are older than we are!'chuckle'
We're sure having fun with our YouTube web site. We have ten videos there now. Seven of the are my own songs. Donna Did,"Besame Mucho," and I did,"Throw Your Arms 'Round This Honky Tonk Man," and "Lonely Wine."
One of my songs, "Just This Side of Nashville," a trucking song, got a five star rating! I don't know who rated it. They don't tell me who rates the songs.
If you go to JC and Donna Lee and listen to our songs, do us a favor and rate them. I know they sound quite amateur but the stories are pretty good. I don't really care if you rate them good or bad or in the middle somewhere. I'd just like to know which are the most popular.

Well, (I say that a lot) I'd best blow this joint. It's about time to head over to the giant, celebrity filled auditorium and perform! Come on by if you're in the neighborhood and we'll pick a tune for you!

Later...

Great Analogy...

2008-06-24T10:01:00.000-07:00

I got this in an e-mail from a dear friend and I think it's neat enough to pass on.

Great analogy.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

THE BUZZARD

If you put a buzzard in a pen that is 6' x 8' and is entirely open at the top, the bird, in spite of its ability to fly, will be an absolute prisoner. The reason is that a buzzard always begins a flight from the ground with a run of 10-12'. Without space to run, as is its habit, it will ! not even attempt to fly, but will remain a prisoner for life in a small jail with no top.

THE BAT

The ordinary bat that flies around at night, a remarkably nimble creature in the air, cannot take off from a level place. If it is placed on the floor or flat ground, all it can do is shuffle about helplessly and painfully until it reaches some slight elevation from which it can throw itself into the air. Then, at once, it takes off like a flash.

THE BUMBLEBEE

A bumblebee, if dropped into an open tumbler will be there until it dies, unless it is taken out. It never sees the means of escape at the top, but persists in trying to find some way out through the sides near the bottom. It will seek a way where none exists, until it completely destroys itself.

PEOPLE

In many ways, we are like the buzzard, the bat and the bumblebee. We struggle about with all our problems and frustrations, never realizing that all we have to do is look up. Sorrow looks back, worry looks around, but faith looks up. Live simply, love generously, care deeply and speak kindly.

May your troubles be less, your blessings more, and may nothing but happiness come through your door!

Later...

It's Been a While...

2008-06-12T17:48:00.000-07:00

...since I wrote in this blog. Mi Espousa, La Donna d'el Nebraska, (a little Mex Lingo here) and I discovered You Tube and we have been having a ball with it,- making and posting videos on it. ('er..- me making the videos and posting them,-she, starring in many of them)
It's so much fun that I have talked her into singing a couple of my favorite songs for the videos, "Back This Way Again," and "It's Over." I never would have thought I'd actually enjoy hearing anyone besides myself sing these two particular songs since they are my very favorites! Just shows to go ya!
It's fun but very time consuming. I bought a video editing application on the net and found out I now, also, have access to about twenty or thirty more video and audio editing app's! It's fun to try to use them but, I must say, I am so thick headed, it's really hard for me to understand how to work many of them. (and Donna won't even try to use them- she's a prima-donna - big star and all!) But I think I'm getting the hang of it finally.
I'm working on one now that will have scene changes, fades in and out with special effects and the like. It'll show us doing different things, acting out scenes that are supposed to indicate we are splitting the proverbial sheet, as it were, with a sound track dubbed in of me singing, "It's Over," in the background. It's fun doing it! I just hope it turns out at least near decent!
I helped my niece put together a blog; her first attempt at blogging, and she is having trouble getting starting on it. Maybe some of you could go over and say hello and sort of welcome her to blog world!
She'll probably shoot me for this but, what the hey, you only live onest!
Well, (I say that a lot) keep an eye on us here and at JC and Donna Lee and we'll try to stay interesting!(or at least, get interesting)

And, as Chico the Wonder Dog would look,(dogs have to 'look', you know because they can't talk), "Oh, well!"

Later...

A While Ago...Priming the Pump...

2008-06-01T17:52:00.000-07:00

Nowadays, priming the pump, usually means "...to do something in order to make something succeed, especially to spend money."
I was reading my sisters' blog,"The Hydrant is running," about a hydrant we had next to the house when we were kids. It was nice to be able to turn a handle and get water whenever we wanted it. Howsomeever, it wasn't always that way.
Most places we lived when I was a baby didn't have hydrants; they had water pumps that were pumped by hand. If we wanted water, we took a bucket and held it under the spout and pumped the pump by hand. That was fine for us since, much of the time we didn't have running water inside the house.
Here is a picture of a water pump.
There was more to getting water with a hand pump than just grabbing the handle and pumping. The second thing we learned about pumping water was keeping a water bucket filled with water right next to the pump all the time. When you got your water, you always, also, filled up the pump bucket that always sat right next to the pump.
Why, you ax, is that? Well, like I said, you didn't just grab the handle and start pumping. First you had to "prime the pump."
After you are finished pumping your water and filling your water bucket, the water that is left in the pump runs back down into the pipe below the pump. Sometimes it drops just a little way and sometimes it drops quite a ways down toward the water level. When that happens, there is a space with only air. Hand pumps are great but they won't pump air.
To get the water started pumping up, water has to be poured into the top of the pump until all the air is displaced. Then and only then will the water be pumped to the top.

I must say, though, water always tasted better coming from a well that had a hand pump. It was always cool and always tasted absolutely wonderful. If I had one now, I might actually agree that that water put into a bottle and sealed might actually be worth paying for!
And that, children, is "Priming the Pump!"
Oh yes, there is something else I wish to mention. There is an old song from the 30s called, "Playmate." In the song there is a line that says,"Shout down my rain barrel..."
I wonder how many of us know what a rainbarrel is.

FYI: It is a barrel used to catch rain to be used for washing clothes, taking baths and etc, etc and, by the way, etc.- saving the pump water for drinking and cooking. So There! Now you know the rest of the story!

Later...

How Does This Grab You, Darlin'?...

2008-05-31T16:35:00.000-07:00

I got this in an e-mail and decided to pass it on. If anyone doubts the figures, look it up for yourself. If you believe them and don't care; Oh, well--What the hey?!?

How they vote in the United Nations:

Below are the actual voting records of various Arabic/Islamic States which are recorded in both the US State Department and United Nations records:

Kuwait votes against the United States 67% of the time

Qatar votes

against the United States 67% of the time

Morocco votes against the United States 70% of the time

United Arab Emirates votes

against the U. S. 70% of the time.

Jordan

votes against the

United States

71% of the time.

Tunisia

votes against the

United States

! 71% of the time.
Saudi Arabia votes against the United States 73% of the time.
Yemen votes against the United States 74% of the time.
Algeria votes against the United States 74% of the time.
Oman votes against the United States 74 % of the time.
Sudan votes against the United States 75% of the time.
Pakistan votes against the United States 75% of the time.
Libya votes against the United States 76% of the time.

Egypt

votes against ! the

United States

79% of the time.

Lebanon

votes against the

United States

80% of the time.

India

votes against the

United States

81% of the time.

Syria

votes against the

United States

84% of the time.

Mauritania

votes against the

United States

87% of the time.

U S Foreign Aid to those that hate us:

Egypt, for example, after voting 79% of the time

against the United States, still receives:

$2 billion annually in US Foreign Aid.

Jordan

votes 71% against the

United States

And receives $192,814,000 annually in

Foreign Aid.

Pakistan votes 75% against the United States

Receives $6,721,000 annually in US Foreign Aid.
India votes 81% against the United States

Receives $143,699,000 annually.

Perhaps it is time to get out of the UN and give the tax savings back to! the American workers who are having to skimp and sacrifice to pay the taxes (and gasoline).
Pass this along to every taxpaying citizen you know.
I notice Arabia and Iraq particularly since we still have troops and military equipm,ent in both countries protecting them and they still charge us five bucks a gallon for gas! ($135 a 42 gallon barrel of oil)

Disgusting isn't it?
Later…

Another Jam Session Day...

2008-05-25T08:10:00.000-07:00

And I'm looking forward to it! There are a couple of songs I haven't sung in many years that I might do today.
One is,"Walk Through This World With Me," a George Jones song. And Maybe,"White lightening," also by Mr Jones.

And there is one that was recorded by Ricky Skaggs called,"You May See Me Walking." I used to do that one when Mi Espousa, La Donna d'el Nebraska (a little Mex lingo there) and I had the Sandalwood Club in Modesto.

It was a really great club and we had a band called,"Half Fast Country," that was as good or better than any in the country. Donna ran the bar (this is her behind the bar)and I took care of the music.

I had Leon (on the left) and Ray Richardson (on the far right) playing twin leads, fiddles, pianos and anything else that made music and they both sang. They were the the best. One of Ray's favorite pieces was,"The Devil Went Down to Georgia.

Howard Julian (third from the left-the second one is me) played bass and sang and Leon's daughter played drums and sang. It was a wonderful life for a beer drinking musician.(Moi)

It was great fun and these jam sessions take me back a bit. That's what makes them worth going to.

We're dabbling in YouTube now, too, putting a few videos in our site as JC and Donna Lee. That's fun, too!

Well, I'd best get cracking and wash my face and comb my hair so's I;m at least acceptable as a 'jammer'. Oh, and put on some clothes to cut back on the shock value! 'chuckle'

Later...

Tomorrow, Today's Gonna Be Yesterday...

2008-05-18T06:25:00.000-07:00

I wrote a song about this once, many years ago. (It seems odd and strange that I can use that phrase, "many years ago," since it indicates a generous passage of time; then I realize that it was, indeed, "many years ago"-to where has time flown!?!)

It is a truck driving song saying generally not to worry about things of tomorrow too much because, as it does no good to worry about yesterday since nothing that happened yesterday can be changed, whatever happens today, good or bad, will soon be the property of yesterday and archived forever and the tomorrow of which I speak will never come. Instead, it will be replaced by another today. Heavy, ain't it? 'chuckle'

Part of the song goes:

"Yesterday is past,
and tomorrow never will come,
Today is all that matters, my friend,
And it won't be here long..."

And this is a trucking song so it describes how a truck driving man needs to feel.

...You can worry and fret,
You can speed right along;
You can give up your truck
when they lay you away,
But it won't do no good, now,
To be a'movin too fast
Cause tomorrow, today's gonna be yesterday."

Well, that says it for me. Now I gotta go take care of today, jam session and all, so that tomorrow I'll have an at least quasi-interesting yesterday back on which to look and over which to ponder and, hopefully, marvel, and with any luck at all, muse!

"...and once again the clock struck seven; then again there was no Raven, nor a fair maid (no Lenore), no rap gently at the door..."

Bye, bye!!

Later...

Dear God...

2008-05-17T09:43:00.000-07:00

I think this is good enough to post. I may have posted it before a long time ago but here it is again!

Dear God:

Why didn't you save the school children at ?

Amish Country, PA

Wisconsin

Columbine High School

Moses Lake, Washington 2/2/96

Bethel, Alaska 2/19/97!

Pearl, Mississippi 10/1/97

West Paducah, Kentucky 12/1/97

Stam P, Arkansas 12/15/97

Jonesboro, Arkansas 3/24/98

Edinboro, Pennsylvania 4/24/98

Fayetteville, Tennessee 5/19/98

Springfield, Oregon 5/21/98

Richmond, Virginia 6/15/98

Littleton, Colorado 4/20/99

Taber, Alberta, Canada 5/28/99

Conyers, Georgia
5/20/99

Deming, New Mexico 11/19/99

Fort Gibson, Oklahoma 12/6/99

Santee, California 3/ 5/01 and

El Cajon, California 3/22/01?

Sincerely,

Concerned Student

-----------------------------------------------------

Reply:

Dear Concerned Student:

I am not allowed in schools.

Sincerely,

God

----------------------------------------------------------

How did this get started?...

-----------------

Let's see,

I think it started when Madeline Murray O'Hare complained

She didn't want any prayer in our schools.

And we said, OK..

------------------

Then ,

Someone said you better not read the Bible in school,

The Bible that says

"Thou shalt not kill,

Thou shalt not steal,

And love your neighbors as yourself,"

And we said, OK...

----------------

Dr. Benjamin Spock said

We shouldn't spank our children

When they misbehaved

Because their little personalities

Would be warped and we might damage their self-esteem.

And we said

An expert should know what he's talking about

So we won't spank them anymore...

------------------

Then someone said

Teachers and principals better not

Discipline our children when they misbehave.

And the school administrators said

No faculty member in this school

Better touch a student when they misbehave

Because we don't want any bad publicity,

And we surely don't want to be sued.

And we accepted their

Reasoning... ------------------

And the entertainment industry said,

let's make TV shows and movies that promote

Profanity, violence and illicit sex...

And let's record music that encourages

Rape, drugs, murder, suicide, and satanic themes...

And we said,

It's just entertainment

And it has no adverse effect

And nobody takes it seriously anyway,

So go right ahead.

------------------

Now we're asking ourselves

Why our children have no conscience,

Why they don't know right from wrong,

And why it doesn't bother them to

Kill strangers, classmates or even themselves.

------------------

Undoubtedly,

If we thought about it long and hard enough,

We could figure it out.

I'm sure it has a great deal to do with...

"WE REAP WHAT WE SOW,"

------------------

Scary, ain't it!?

Later...

What's a Man?...

2008-05-14T18:24:00.000-07:00

I think it just depends on who and where you are. I was just remembering something that happened to me when I was in Odessa, Texas. It's not much but it kinda stuck with me.
It was 1956 and I was just out of the army and working for the J H Marks Trucking Company, swamping on a rig-up truck.(*Swamping is pulling line on a rig-up truck and doing everything that has to be done so the driver will never have to get out of the truck. He drives the truck - this could be one of the smaller winch truck I worked on -- and works the winches and I do the rest.)
Each morning all drivers and swampers waited in a small shack we called the drivers' room. We stayed there until we were told where we would go and what we were to do that day. To pass the time, most of the drivers played poker. Poker in Texas,is of course, five card stud.
There were only a few swampers in the shack on this particular day. I, of course, and a younger man whom I remember as being 18 years old and a couple more.
the shack was crowded and the poker table was full with eight men playing. One of the drivers was an older man (probably fifty or so) wearing bib overalls, whose name was Snow. He was a short, stocky man, with huge arms and a shock of white hair. He was one of the strong, silent types. (There are a bunch of those in Texas)
He had left the poker table to use the restroom and was coming back into the shack. On his way in, he passed right by where the young swamper and I were engaged in a hot game of Casino. (*Let me explain: In Texas there is only one card game for a man and that is five card stud.)As he walked by, he hesitated for a second and looked at the cards on our table.
"What are you boys playing?" he axed. The kid looked up with a smile and said, "Casino." Old man Snow shook his head and as he walked away, said, "Next you'll be squattin' to piss!"
Well, our game of casino slowed to a stop and we decided to play five card stud,- for fun.

Well,(I say that a lot) like I said, whatever a man is depends on where he is and what he is used to. For me, if I ever go back to Odessa and if I ever decide to play cards, it'll be five card stud. Nowadays casino might be all right but I ain't takin' no chances! Old man Snow might still be in Odessa and I know, if I started up a game of casino, he'd walk by! There's no doubt about it!

Later...

Sorry, But This Is Important...

2008-05-08T10:26:00.000-07:00

Obama Embraces New Caustic Pastor..."

This is an example of one of the heroes of Obama's new pastor, Rev Moss. It is, Tupac Shakur, a 'gangsta' rapper, now deceased. Please watch and listen to this video.

It would be a drastic mistake to vote for this man (Obama) for our next president!

Later...

My Original Poetry...

2008-04-27T16:37:00.000-07:00

I am going to begin posting poems on my YouTube site. I have one ready now called, "The Shack Just South of Town." I may post it today.
I just created the video on the spur of the moment and I didn't scrape my face or put on my tux beforehand; but I did wear my cowperson hat. And it's black.

So, anyhoo, keep an eye peeled and let me know if you like my poetry.

Later...

Who Do You Like?...(or is that,'Whom'?)

2008-04-22T08:38:00.000-07:00

Here is a poll I think you may find interesting. Whomever you vote for will say a lot. (to someone) 'chuckle'They're performing maintenance on the site. I'll try again later.

I took this out because people were having trouble getting it to work.(Donna won with 2,000,000 votes. (or was it, 2)

Later...

JC and Donna Lee..

2008-04-15T15:00:00.000-07:00

"Whoopeee!".....Well, what the hey,-In case anyone ever wondered,"Who the hell is 'JC and Donna Lee,' well(again) here they are, in the flesh! (heavy on 'the flesh')
This our first time at presenting a video on YouTube so please don't be too hard on us.
Donna Lee wanted to dress up but(as soon as I got my cowboy hat and vest on) I told her we wouldn't need all that.

Anyhoo, here we are! Enjoy!

"I was given a young man's heart ..."

2008-04-09T11:49:00.000-07:00

"... and started craving beer and Kentucky Fried Chicken. My daughter said I even walked like a man..."

What a wonderful story this is! It is well worth reading. I won't post any more of it here but I hope some of you take the time to read it! It is very inspiring and touching!

Later...

Well, We Done It...

2008-04-05T10:29:00.000-07:00

and it was fun. Now we're headed for Redding for a jam session.
(This is Donna and me doing what we do best...er'..second best-maybe third)
I'm taking my guitar and my bass, in case no one else brings a bass guitar.
When Mi Espousa (a little Mex lingo there) or I sing, I'll play the guitar (cause it's easier for me to sing playing the guitar rather than the bass guitar-{and/or}-I can be sure the song is played right and in the right chords for Mi Espousa ((a bit more Mex lingo here)) when she sings) and play the bass for the rest of the musicians.
The bass gives the sound a bit more bottom. (With Donna and Me, we don't need no more bottom)

Bye, bye!

Later...

Once Again It's Time...

2008-04-04T09:07:00.000-07:00

...to entertain the 'old' folks. Today Mi Espousa (a little Mex lingo here) and I will go to Anderson to the senior hall and pick and sing for the elderly. (and any other who attend)
It's always fun there and we are happy to do it.
For any of you who have never heard of us, we're JC and Donna Lee, entertainer extraordinaries; singers, dancers and tellers of an occasional blond joke. (There are so many it's pretty easy)
For the newbies,(et al) I have signed up for a You Tube site and will, in the not too distant future, post a video of JC and Donna Lee doing their thing. When I get the video on there, I'll post the link and you all can enjoy the outstanding performance we will give!..-'whheewwoooh'..

Anyhoo, I'd best go now. It's time to hit the road Jack and don't look back! 'oops'...off again I go--I cain't hep it!

Later...

It's Been a While...

2008-04-03T11:06:00.000-07:00

...since I wrote something in this blog. Whilst perusing my sister's blog, I came across this little episode that happened to my Dad and three sisters some years back.(1939)
My mother, brother and I had ridden the freights and hitch-hiked to California earlier and Daddy decided he and the girls needed to come from Phoenix to California to find us. It was a long, eventful trip for them and here is how part of it happened.
"...A woman came out to the big room and Daddy told her we were on our way to California to Mother and she said," Mister, you are already in California!" Daddy told her we all needed some food then we would go on our way and find Mother...
After we had eaten, she took us upstairs where there were long rows of single bunks. I think they were just cots but she said this was where we would sleep. Mickey and I would sleep here but Joan would sleep in another room. We didn't like that idea. Mickey said Joan was supposed to sleep with us.
"Well," the woman said, "Look who is telling me how to run my business!!" We didn't say anything else.
She said we could all go out in the back yard to play till dinner. We went and stuck together like glue. We were finally called in to eat dinner and we went down the stairs again and sat at the long tables. We had soup again and sandwiches. We didn't know any better so we thought it was really good; at least better than we had in the past two weeks.
Then up the stairs we went again. I slept on the cot next to Mickey. We were so tired I hardly knew what was going on 'till a woman came in with a cot and set it up between us and said,"Here is your little sister. She won't stop crying."
So Joan got to sleep with us after all! I think she got into bed with Mickey..."

What a time that was and what a life people like us had! Growing up was itself an adventure! If I could do it over again I wouldn't change a thing!

Later...

...a response to Sen. Barack Obama's speech on change in government.

2008-03-27T15:32:00.001-07:00

This is an excellent (but a bit long) speech by Newt Gingrich addressing the speech of Obama. It is well worth watching and quite educational and enlightening.

Newt Gingrich Speech.

Later...

Test

2008-03-25T19:29:00.001-07:00

The Worst of ‘em…Boysenberries...

2008-03-20T08:44:00.000-07:00

I was reading an old, now unused blog of mine and came across this article. I think it is interesting enough to post on this blog. It's a bit lengthy but gets interesting near the end. I hope you enjoy it.
The Worst of ‘em…
I guess the worst of the fruit to pick was Boysenberries. I won’t go much into how they’re grown, only how they’re picked, at least my experience of picking them.(which was only once)Boysenberries…

First, let me explain a little about Boysenberries and what they are. They are a cross between red raspberries, logan berries and blackberries. They were developed by a man named Rudolph Boysen (who abandoned the fruit after developing it) and first commercially cultivated and marketed by a man named Walter Knott of Buena Park, California.
Mr. Boysen developed the berry in Napa Valley but, as I said, abandoned the fruit and the vine. Mr. Knott, a southern California berry farmer and George Darrow, a USDA employee, heard of the juicy berry and tracked down the abandoned berry vine and Mr. Knott took it to Buena Park where he grew the large, juicy berries and his wife made preserves from the berries and sold them to the public. They were so well received that they (and the farm where they were grown, Knotts Berry Farm) became world famous.
Anyhow, us kids were always looking for a way to make a buck since, in Little Okie, Modesto, there weren’t many bucks to be had by kids. There was a man who had acres and acres of Boysen Berries and needed for them to be picked. It was hard for him to find people to pick his berries because he couldn’t pay much and no one wanted to get their hands all scratched up by the berry vine thorns. What he did was pass around leaflets through our and other neighborhoods saying he wanted to hire kids to pick his berries for so much money a small basket. The baskets were the size of the now popular strawberry baskets.
On the leaflet, he told where he would be on a certain day (the corner of Oregon Drive and Empire Avenue) and anyone who wanted to pick berries should be there to be picked up and taken to the berry patch. He would pay for the number of baskets picked by each person at the end of the day (which was about six hours). I don’t remember how much a basket paid but it wasn’t enough for me to go a second day. We were instructed to bring gloves and many of us did. We started at the end of a vine and picked the berries, one at a time, carefully so’s not to mash them, and put them into the little basket.
The problem was, no matter how thick your gloves were, (most of us had cotton gloves) they wouldn’t stop the thorns from piercing right to the skin and nailing your arms! I stayed the first day and picked all I could, mostly because it was too far to walk home. Some of the kids tried to put leaves in their baskets so they would appear full but the guy checking them quickly put a stop to that.
As I recall, I earned about a dollar and a half that day, not nearly enough for me to want to go back for another day! Actually, no amount of money would have been enough, considering the thorn holes on my hands and the scratches on my arms!
I told this story to a friend many years later and his response was, “Gee, I didn’t think Boysenberries had thorns!”

Well, ‘duh’! Then what was that I had picked? Well,.. what was it? I guess some do and some don’t. If finding out for sure takes another round of picking them, I’ll never know! (or care)
I guess the thing about picking berries, even Blackberries, is to not get in too much of a hurry. I remember several times when my Mother’s brothers and sisters came from Texas to Modesto to visit us. They would set up their tents on the end of our lot, a couple had small trailers that were big enough to sleep in, and we cooked and ate on a couple of big tables under the apricot trees.

This is a picture of Grandpa (walking away) and Grandma (facing us) and Aunt Cannie Rayburn (Grandma’s sister) with her back to us, Aunt Sylvia standing facing us in the background and some others sitting around a table, getting ready to eat. (or just visiting) This was about 1946 or so.
Mom and most of the women would go to Dry Creek and wade out into the creek with buckets and pick the ripe, juicy blackberries that grow along the banks of the creek to take home and eat and no one much complained about the scratches they got picking the berries! (Here is a picture of Dry Creek I borrowed from Flicker-I couldn't find one showing the Blackberry vines)
They usually picked enough so that Mother could can up a bunch of the berries while the folks were there visiting us. Then the relatives would each have at least one jar of Blackberry jam to take home when they left.
Those days were wonderful. Everyone would sit around the table or on peach boxes and talk about their times at home or about things that had happened to them since the last time they saw each other; or just visit and enjoy each other’s company.
Once in a while, Pop and Uncle Mack and a couple more of the men would sneak off down to Legion Park and take a snort of Three Feathers or Four Roses or some other kind of whiskey (there was no drinking allowed at home) and have their ‘man talk’ then come back and try not to let the women know they had been drinking. Of course everyone knew but as long as there was no trouble, no one acknowledged it. No one ever got drunk but it sure loosened them up!
Us boys would usually ‘put on the gloves’ and see who was the best fighter. The men made a big thing of it but always made sure the boxing gloves were 16 ounce gloves so no one would get hurt much during the boxing match. The winner was usually the kid who lasted the longest without getting tired. It was great fun!
Sometimes the women and the girls would get the quilting frame out and take scraps of cloth Mom had or the other women brought with them from Texas and have a quilting bee and swap gossip. They loved to talk about their men and things that had happened since the last visit. It was a wonderful way of life and everyone always seemed very happy. Who knows, this visit could be the last time some of us ever saw the rest, at least in this life.
It seems that kind of visiting doesn’t happen much anymore. Mother is gone to her reward and so are all of her brothers and sisters. I guess those days are gone forever.

And besides, most people are too busy nowadays to do much visiting. And who would sleep in a tent anymore and wade into the creek to pick a bunch of thorny blackberries! Too bad…sad.

Later…

You Might Be A Redneck Artist If...

2008-03-12T15:10:00.000-07:00

This is really neat. I never much liked barbecue sauce before (too sweet) but this puts a whole new light on it! Click here and enjoy!

Later...

A Sad Day...Sort Of...

2008-03-08T21:15:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was a sad day. Mi Espousa (a little Mex lingo here) and I first went to the Frontier Hall Senior Citizen Activities Center in the morning and sang, danced and etc'ed for an hour and a quarter, entertaining those old folks (some are older than are we) and that was fine. We had a nice time and came away with a two dollar and fifty cent free lunch apiece and fourteen bucks in tips and all (up to that time) was well.
Then we had a sad task to do. A good friend of ours, a man who had danced a dance or two at just about every jam session in which we participated, had gone to the great jam session in the sky and we were asked to be part of a special jam session in his honor. We were, of course, happy to be part of his jam session memorial. His name is Larry Henke and he was a really good fellow.
He always started his dance with a little jig. Then he corralled his little old lady friend and they danced the session away. He was a red faced cowboy type, with always a smile on his face and a nice word to say to whomever.
We (mi Espousa -a little more Mex lingo here)and I were about the last of the jammers to get there. 'There' is a town hall in Ono, a little burg about twenty miles west of Anderson and is Larry's home town. His family were all there, of course, and the other half of the town were there, too.
We set up our equipment and did a couple of songs and then the family came in with their guitars, mandolins and fiddles. They wanted to sing a few of Larry's favorite songs in his honor and then say a few words about the man. It was very touching.
They did their songs, each taking turns and some of them sounded very good.
Then some of them talked about their Grandpa or Father, whichever was the case. Several very entertaining stories were told about Larry. I must say I was a bit surprised at some of the stories about his various prowesses at some things. I won't go into them. It's enough to say, the man was much more accomplished than one might think.
The songs and stories were over. There were some laughs, some smiles and some tears. It was sad, indeed, to contemplate the end of a man who had made such a positive impact on so many people. I didn't know him well but what I knew of him was pleasant. He didn't play music and he didn't sing but I know he had as nice a time as we in the jam session band did. We will certainly miss him at the sessions. With the twenty or so jam session musicians and singers who knew him and his extensive family, I only hope that many people will miss me when I go to the Lead Guitar Picker's Jam Session in the sky!

It was a sort of sad day,-but it was also a sort of happy day!

Later...

Obama: Sermon on Mount OKs Same-Sex Unions...

2008-03-04T13:48:00.000-08:00

I posted this on my other blog but I believe it needs to be on this one, too. I cannot believe anyone who is a Christian would vote for Barack Obama!

Boy, if this doesn't tell you how the cow eats the cabbage, nothing will! Go to this Link!

Later...

Another Great Day...

2008-02-29T19:48:00.000-08:00

Today (Friday) was another great day! Donna, Mi Espousa, (a little Mex lingo here) and I entertained the old folks (some of them are older than are we)at the Frontier Hall in Anderson. The Frontier Hall is the Senior Citizen Nutrition Center and Activity Hall. We set up our equipment on the floor in the dining area. But there is a gap between our equipment table and the diners' tables so it works out fine.

We did a few of our 'regular' songs, such as, "When I Fall In Love," "Amarillo By Morning," "I Just Fall in Love Again," and others,ones we know are the favorites of some of the regulars. We, also, added a few new songs, ones we just learned within the last week. Donna did, "Singing In the Rain," a great song recorded by Gene Kelly from a movie of the same name.

A new one I did was a wonderful song, written and recorded by both Roy Orbison and Bill Dees, called, "Sleepy Hollow." It Starts: "There's a place I call Sleepy Hollow
Where I go when you're not around.
There's a brook running clear through the meadow;
I lose my blues in it's sound..."

I have had the recording of this song sung by Roy Orbison for years but I never heard Bill Dees sing it. He does a great job.If I can figure out how to do it, I'll put his version on my blog for you to hear. (Any suggestions on 'How To' anyone?)

I'll finish this later but now I have decided to go to the creek. See ya!

Later...

Post Script To My Last Post...

2008-02-25T07:51:00.000-08:00

While I worked for my brother-in-law in Odessa, I was paid a dollar and ten cents an hour with time and a half for over forty hours a week. Our regular work days were ten hours a day, Monday through Friday and half a day on Saturday. We were paid for the time it took to get to wherever we had to go each day but came back on our own time.
My pay came to about sixty eight bucks and change a week. Take home after taxes was between sixty one and sixty three bucks. It was the most money I had ever had at one time. I thought I was "shittin' in tall cotton," as the saying goes. I gave my sister about twenty bucks a week for my keep.
With the second check, I bought a wrist watch from Zales Jewelers for 37 dollars and ninety five cents! It was the first wrist watch I ever had. It was an Avalon and sort of clover shaped with green facing. I remember that because, at that time I was going through an Irish heritage pride period; hence, the shamrock watch. I don't remember what ever happened to that watch but I was sure proud of it!

Thank God for whichever Angel He sent to watch over me and get me to where I am now!

Later...

The End of My Trip To Odessa...

2008-02-22T19:24:00.000-08:00

Well, (I say that a lot)I guess I may as well finish my trip to Odessa, Texas. A couple of folks say they are curious about the rest of the trip so here goes!
"...When I got to the T&P yard, it was late evening and the train was about through making up. It was a long one, probably 130 or more cars. It is almost three hundred miles from El Paso to Odessa and I knew it would be an all night trip. And I knew it would be cold.
The train had four engines pulling it, two facing forwards and two facing backwards. That put the last engine with the door right at the first boxcar. There was no light showing in the back cab so, when the train started pulling out, I climbed aboard the last cab.
Inside were a lot of gauges I didn’t recognize so I didn’t touch anything. The seat looked like a captain’s seat so I sat in it. It was big and comfortable and I quickly fell asleep...'oops'

In a couple of hours, I felt myself being roughly shaken. I awoke abruptly and saw a big man glaring down at me. He asked me what the hell I was doing in this cab and I said I was sleeping. I was thoroughly scared and didn’t know what to expect. I assured him that I hadn’t touched anything. He told me that if I were discovered here the entire crew would be fired. I said I was sorry. He said that wasn’t enough and that I would have to get off the train. I asked him when it would be stopping and he said not until it got to Odessa.
Then he told me I would have to jump off the train while it was moving. I said I didn’t think I could and he assured me that I would indeed jump, and right now. I was scared half to death and it was pretty obvious to him that I was. He said that if I would do exactly as he would tell me, I would be all right.
The train was climbing a long uphill grade just west of Sierra Blanca and was going only about twenty miles an hour. He told me to climb down the ladder of the cab and let myself down toward the ground until my feet just touched the ground. Then start running as fast as I could without letting go of the ladder. When I was actually running and was sure I had my balance, I would let go of the ladder and, as soon as I dropped, reach up and grab with both hands and I would catch the ladder on the front of the first boxcar. Then I could pull myself up and ride on top of the train the rest of the way.
I stopped being petrified as soon as my feet touched the ground. Then I let go and grabbed. Everything happened just the way the engineer said it would. When I got to the top of the boxcar, I lay down on my stomach with my arms wrapped around the walkway under me in the warm exhaust of the diesel engine and slept until we were about five miles from Odessa.
It was just breaking daylight when I got off of the train and started walking toward my sister’s house on West Ada Street. When I was within sight of her house, I saw her waiting for me with a big smile on her face. She said it was about time I got here and gave me a healthy hug.
We went inside and Shike (Her name is Eva but we all called her Shike, short for Shi-poke because she dawdled so much while walking when she was little)told me to wash my hands and face and she would cook some breakfast for me. I did and she did. She kept cooking as long as I wanted to eat. I know I must have eaten six or eight eggs, a half-pound of bacon, a half loaf of bread and a quart of milk. Then she had me take off my dirty clothes and she washed them while I took a bath.
Her husband, Joe, had already gone to work when I got there but I saw him that night. He was a roustabout crew-pusher for an oilfield service company. It was the B&B Construction Company and he serviced oil wells and tank batteries for Phillips Petroleum.
Joe knew everything about hooking up tank batteries;i.e., tanks, heater-treaters, separators, pump jacks, christmas trees (a cluster of valves to route oil from the wells to tanks and wherever was needed) and laying pipelines, digging ditches and maintaining the area around tank batteries.
He and his crew of three men drove a rig-up truck (a winch truck with a rolling tailgate and a set of gin poles on it and tool boxes on the sides) They did anything that needed to be done at oilfield sites.
Joe was a good-natured man and we talked that night. He smoked Lucky Strike cigarettes and bought a pack for me. He had a terrible temper but didn’t lose it often.
I went to sleep early that night and was really getting my sleep caught up when I felt someone shake me awake. Bleary-eyed, I looked up into the face of my sister, Shike, who was standing there with a hard hat in her hand. It was still dark and I asked her what was going on. She said it was time for me to go to work and she handed me the hard hat.
She said Joe needed another man and had hired me. Off hand, I didn’t remember applying for a job with him. Eva said I could stay there as long as I wanted to but I had to work. So I got up, got dressed, ate and went to work. The first oil field order from the foreman to his brand new hand was, "Jamsie, grab a shovel!" I would hear it many more times until I would learn enough to handle the other tools of the trade!"

That's the end of my first trip on the freights from Modesto, California to Odessa, Texas. I hope you enjoyed it. One of these days I'll go back to Jim's Journal and write some more.

Later...

The Texas and Pacific Railroad..The next part...

2008-02-21T15:42:00.000-08:00

Again I've been reading my Journal and, having gotten a couple of nice comments on the last post, I have decided to post another part of my life story, then maybe one more. That would get me to Odessa, Texas. Enjoy.
"...I don’t remember much about the rest of the trip until I got to El Paso, Texas. When I pulled into El Paso, it was in the mid-morning and I was hungry and I remember I had been cold the night before.
I got off the train at the edge of the train yard and began walking through town. After I had walked a ways, I met a man who looked to be around 40 years old. He was a tall, skinny man and was wearing a long, horsehair army surplus coat that hung way down on his legs. He asked me where I was coming from and I told him. Then he asked me how old I was and I told him that, too. (Almost everyone I met asked me how old I was)Then I told him I was headed for Odessa to see my Dad.
He said he was going to get something to eat and asked me if I was hungry. I told him I was. He asked me if I had any money and I said I had a little change. He said if I would give it to him, he would get us something to eat so I gave it to him. He told me to wait there and he would be back.
In an hour or so he returned with a grin on his face. I think I gave him 30 or 40 cents, all I had left from scraping the paint from the windows of a house that had been painted in a little job I did in Colton. He said,” Let’s eat!” and walked over to a trestle piling and sat down.
I followed him, wondering how he could have enough food for the both of us. He had a paper bag with a loaf of bread in it. It didn’t look like much, then he opened his coat and took out a package of lunch-meat, several candy bars and a small carton of milk. He chuckled and said his big old coat sure came in handy sometimes. Then we ate and it sure tasted good. I don’t think I had eaten anything but oranges in the last couple of days.
We hung around there for a few hours and just talked. He asked me about my home and family and listened intently as I described my Mother and step Dad and my brother and sisters and stepbrothers and stepsisters.
He seemed kind of wistful and said he didn’t remember his family very well. It had been a long time since he had seen any of them. He said he had a sister somewhere but didn’t know where she was now. He didn’t know if anyone else was still alive. I got the impression he wanted to come to Odessa with me to meet my Dad and everyone but he never asked to so I didn’t suggest it.

When I met Hobos on the road, they usually acted happy-go-lucky or at least, content with their station in life, but there seemed sometimes to be a vague suggestion of sadness and melancholy among them, as if maybe there was something that might be missing and they weren’t sure what it was.
Except for telling their stories of how they got started hoboing, they said very little about their pasts or families. Their talk was, for the most part, about food or smokes or where to go and how to get there. And about friends on the road they knew or had known. I heard them discuss Hobos much more than their families; as if they had all become families amongst themselves.
It may seem strange and impossible but I can still remember exactly how the people I met on the road looked. I remember Blackie just like it was yesterday. I remember the old man from New York with the long, white beard at Colton and the younger man who told me about his family in Oregon. I can remember the men who a made the fish-head-stew and, also, the men in Los Angeles who sent me across the Los Angeles river to a bakery for day old bread. And I can remember this man in El Paso as if this all just happened. And I remember them fondly.
After a while, I said I’d better go so I could get to the other side of town to the Texas and Pacific yard before dark. He reminded me how to get there and not to let anyone see me get on the train.

Then he admired the Levi Jacket I had on. I told him it wasn’t very warm at night and he asked me if I wanted to trade for his big old horse hair coat. I told him I would and he took my jacket and gave me his coat. He said it would keep me warm on the train. I think that is what he intended. Then we said goodbye and I left. I never saw him again." I hope he stayed happy.

Later...

Headed For Texas...

2008-02-15T18:54:00.000-08:00

I don’t remember if I ever told about the first time I rode a freight train from Modesto, California to Odessa, Texas, where my Dad and Sister lived. I met up with a man named Blackie, a man about 50 or so years old, who took me under his wing and showed me a lot about how to make it on the rails. Here is part of the trip, starting from the Colton Hobo Jungle.

…Blackie told me that when I got to El Paso, I would have to leave the Southern Pacific rail yard and walk across town to the Texas and Pacific rail yard to go on to Odessa. He described to me just which way to go. He said I would have to wait at the eastern edge of the yard until the train was made up and rolling to hop aboard and that the railroad dicks on the T P weren't as sociable as on the SP.

That evening Blackie showed me where to catch the train to Yuma. I asked him if he were going and he said no, he would be going back to the Bakersfield area. He said I should take the morning train so I would get to Yuma in the daytime. Then I should catch a night train east and would cross the Arizona desert at night while it was cool. Then he left me there and went on his way. I learned a lot from Blackie. I really hated to see him go.

I caught a train and headed for Yuma. On the way, the train stopped at a switchyard in some town and dropped off a car. While the engine was switching cars, I went to an orange grove and picked as many ripe oranges as I could to eat on the way.

The freight finally rolled into Yuma and I got off and headed for the east of the switchyard to wait for the eastbound train to start. I caught it just at dusk. I climbed into an open boxcar and went to the back of the car, out of sight of anyone who might be looking that way. After the train cleared town, I sat in the door of the boxcar and watched the scenery roll by.

I soon went to sleep and was really sawing logs when I felt the train hump and begin to stop. I got up and went to the door to look out. I could see the highway a ways off. I could see what looked like police cars on the highway with their lights flashing.

The train came to a stop and I really got worried. I had no idea why a train would be stopped by the police way out in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night. I first considered jumping off the train and hiding in the brush until the police left but it was too dark outside to see where to hide. I went back to the end of the boxcar and hoped I wouldn’t be seen.

In a minute or two I heard footsteps approaching and saw the beam of light from a flashlight coming toward the car. I was really scared. Then someone flashed a light on me. It was an Arizona State Patrolman. He told me to come there and asked my name. I told him and he asked me how old I was. (It seemed everyone would ask me that) I told him and he asked what I was doing out here. I told him I was from Modesto and was going to Odessa, Texas, to see my Dad.

I asked him what was wrong and he said there had been a breakout at the Arizona State Prison at Yuma and they were looking for two escaped prisoners. Then he was quiet for a few seconds. I thought he might take me in custody. He asked if my mother knew where I was and I said she probably did but she hadn’t told me I could go. I didn’t want her to get into trouble.

I told him I wasn’t running away from home, just going to see my dad. What he did then really surprised me. He told me to be careful and to stay on the train until daylight and be careful of anyone I might see on the way. I said I would and he left. A few minutes later the train started up again. I went back to sleep. I stayed on the train until it got to Tucson the next morning.

And the next part is another story.

Later…

Musical Interlude Day...

2008-02-12T20:13:00.000-08:00

Well, (I say that a lot) today was another music day and I must say, it was a much better day than Sundays' jam session was! Sunday I went to Paskenta without Mi Espousa (a little Mex lingo there) because she was in San Francisco visiting her sister. It was a pretty good jam session, as jam sessions go, and I met a new fellow musician.

He is a black guy, a twin with his sister, and he played the bass guitar. Actually he had two basses, one black one that really sounded good (he had an amp about four feet long by three feet tall that had to have at least two 15's in it) and would really blow you out of the room!

He had another bass that I really admired. It was a 1950s or 60s Gibson thin line hollow body and it sounded extremely good. My only regret was I didn't ask to play it.

Anyhow, (I say that a lot, too) we played for a while and ate and etc'ed and I decided to go home so I'd be there if Donna came home early. (Little did I know she was already there, hoping to catch me doing something bad--sure,-yeah!)

Anyhoo, (again) I carried my junk out to the pickup and loaded part of it and walked around the truck and found the left, rear tire was flat. Bummer! I had a hell of a time with it because the long jack crank handle was supposed to go through the bumper (a hole) and into a guide to loosen the spare tire mounted under the pickup bed. I couldn't get it to work. Shucks! (actually, "shit"!)

Then a lady came by and offered her brother's assistance and I accepted graciously. (the 'gracious' part was to stop swearing profanely) He came on the scene and stuck the handle through the hole, twisted it and the spare jumped off by itself and rolled around and tried to get on the hub. It stopped only when I explained to it, the other tire hadn't been removed yet. Oh.

I thanked the stranger and finished up and left to go home....BTW...

In the interim, I had called AAA to come and help and had to call them back and tell them some other dummy had already fixed it. They responded with an emphatic, "Oh!"

So I went home and, the next day (right now it's the 13th) I took it to Les Schwab and got it fixed. I asked the tire repair man if he would replace the spare on the spare rack after he fixed the flat and he said he would.
However, (and I was watching) when he finished repairing the tire and had placed it into the hub, the spare jumped up onto the spare rack by itself and fastened itself down tightly and I'm sure I heard it say, "Whew', I'm glad that's over! I'm tired."

Now that was Sunday. Tuesday, Donna and I went to the Shasta Senior Nutrition Center, played and sang flawlessly, accepted seven bucks as tips, came home and reveled at the ease and grace with which we did our thing.

What a difference a day makes! (or, in this case, three days)

Of course, it may have been the Master Musician telling me that my music has to include, among other things, a Donna. You never know.

Later...

Mi Espousa No Es Aqui...

2008-02-07T20:24:00.000-08:00

Mi Espousa es alli. (A little Mex lingo here) She's in San Francisco visiting her sister. Oh, well! I guess I'll just have to make the best of it.

Too bad Chico the Wonder Dog isn't here to 'look at' about things. He always had good things to say at the most depressed times. I still read over his witticisms once in a while. Does me good.

Later...

Mike Huckabee Comments on Romney News...

2008-02-07T17:47:00.000-08:00

Former Arkansas Governor and Republican presidential candidate issued the following statement regarding the exit of former Massachusetts Governor Mitt Romney from the presidential race.

"...I am redoubled in my resolve to carry on my campaign in a civil, dignified manner. The issues that got me into this campaign-protecting life and traditional marriage, enacting the Fair Tax, and border security are going to keep me in this campaign."

"As a true authentic, consistent, conservative, I have a vision to bring hope, opportunity and prosperity to all Americans, and I'd like to ask for and welcome the support of those who had previously been committed to Mitt."

You got me, Mike!

Later...

Anyone For a Ride?...

2008-02-03T10:28:00.000-08:00

Well, I Guess Fred's Out; So Huckabee's In!...

2008-01-28T13:25:00.000-08:00

Well, (I say that a lot) I posted this on my other blog, Tell It Like It Is, and I think I'll let it run for a day or so on this one, too. I believe it's that important.

"I sure hope Huckabee won't be as easy for the lib's to beat as they seem to think he will be. I sure wanted Thompson but I guess that was not to be.

I looked things over pretty closely before I made my choice. This article from AFA came in my e-mail and it locked up my choice. It tells about the do's and don'ts of the candidates, both Republicans and Dem's.

The only thing I am a bit iffy about is his wanting to have a federal sales tax instead of the present, Infernal Revenue Service debacle(?). That could be not too great for us seniors who are on fixed and limited incomes. It ain't like I could just work another day for the overtime to afford to buy a new vacuum cleaner (plus thirty percent tax) for mi espousa! (A little Mex lingo there) And, of course, there'd still be a state income and sales tax to consider.

Some of the candidates answers (yes or no) to the questions they were asked might just surprise you. I'd suggest you go to the above mentioned site and check things out.

Oh, and HERE is a link to Mike's web page. You can learn a lot about him there."

Later...

The Northern Lights…

2008-01-20T09:36:00.000-08:00

I was over at Tweetys’ site enjoying the outstanding photos of the Aurora Borealis and remembered when I first saw the Northern Lights. (and the only time, I hasten to add) I may have posted about this sometime in the past but I’m gonna do it again!
It was in the year of our Lord, 1957, and I was living and working out of pueblo, Colorado, driving truck and hauling pipe from the steel mill there (Colorado Fuel and Iron Co –CFI) to all points mostly south into Texas, Oklahoma and New Mexico to assorted oil well drilling rigs and pipe yards.
On this particular trip, a big one-eyed Irishman named Don Ferguson was making the trip with me in his truck. Don was from Vega, Texas, and his family still lived there.
Don was a country boy, a bit on the shy side and in no way worldly wise. As an example; on this trip we went to Houston to take two loads of drill pipe to a pipe yard there. (Or a steel mill, I don’t remember for sure which) Anyhoo, when we got there, it was too late to unload that day and we were hungry so we parked in the large parking lot (which was where we would sleep on a pallet or sleeping bag under the load of pipe to keep the morning dew off, since there were no hotels available) and looked around for a café. Down the street about a block or so away was a Danny’s restaurant. It was new and would later change it’s name to the now popular moniker of, “Dennys.”
Anyhow, when Don saw it, he was reluctant to go in because he thought it looked too fancy. I assured him we would be welcomed with open arms since we closely resembled working men with appetites and money. We did go in and eat and were treated royally.
Now for the important part. We unloaded the next day and headed back to Pueblo. On the way, we went through Vega and visited some with Don’s folks. They wanted us to spend the night but as we were wont to drive great distances without sleep, we decided to go on.
Now, to make a short story shorter, going back northward, we had to drive through the Canadian River basin. It dropped probably six or seven hundred feet from level to the river and up. It was a moonless night and very dark. As we drove along, all of a sudden I saw Don’s truck brake lights come on and he pulled to the right and stopped. I stopped behind him and walked up to where he was, by now, standing. He appeared excited, as was I.
He was looking north, pointing at something in the sky. He asked me if I saw a flash of light and I assured him I had seen it. He wondered aloud if the Russians had dropped an atomic bomb on our houses in Pueblo. (or anywhere else north of us) In those days, worrying about the Soviet Union and the “A” bomb was an everyday thing. I agreed it could be the scenario creating the tremendous flash of light.
Then we saw it again and I realized what it was. I asked Don if he knew what the Aurora Borealis was and he said he did. Then I assured him, the Northern Lights were, indeed, what we were seeing and we wondered that we could see them this far south of the border. (of Alaska)
Anyhoo, that’s the first and only time I have espied the Northern Lights. I remembered Don in the year, about 1993 or so (I’m a big reminiscer) and called him at his home in Vega, Texas (He’s still married to Sally) and axed him if he remembered much about us in those days and the first thing he said was, “Yeah, mostly the time we saw the Northern Lights.”
Boy, them was the good old days!

Later…